Pirates: The Golden Masque
by LadySparrow01
Summary: Jack reached into his coat and retrieved a rolled up piece of parchment. He spread the sheet out on the table top for Emera to see, smirking slightly as her eyes widened in astonishment. On the parchment was a sketch of the treasure they were seeking. It was no ordinary be-jeweled mask. - Short story about what happens before Curse of the Black Pearl. Sequel to Welcome to Tortuga.
1. Part 1

*** Oi! Have you read Book One? If not go and do so right now! Go on! Go and read Pirates: Welcome to Tortuga, or else this wont make much sense.***

Pirates:

The Golden Masque

(A _Pirates of the Caribbean _Short Story)

By: Lady Sparrow

Summer always brought with it a multitude of weather. The conditions seemed to dance somewhere between raging storms and sweltering heat. While neither were very desirable, at least the warmth didn't involve constant risk of being swept from the decks by a stray wave. It merely drained the crew of energy, reducing them to sweating puddles of half dressed men. Ocean storms, however, were treacherous at best. Powerful gales would tear across the sea, threatening to rip sails from their masts and crewmen from their stations. Waves taller than ships would swell out of the depths, swallowing up any vessel unfortunate enough to be caught in the path. Rain came down in icy sheets, freezing every surface it fell upon and making the decks slick. Sure as the world was round, every sailor that cursed summer heat would pray for it once locked in the heart of a rampant tempest.

Near-arctic rain pounded _The Rose_ as the ship fought its way towards the Grand Bahamas. It would only be a few more hours before the Schooner arrived at the modest English port. Emera Flint stood watch on the quarter deck. The collar of her greatcoat was turned up in an attempt to block out the wind and she wore a tri-corn that seemed to do a better job of collecting water than repelling it. The young sailor bounced on her heels in a futile attempt to keep herself warm. It wasn't working. The heavy wool of her greatcoat was doing a superb job of soaking up the rain, making Emera soggy to the bone. Her numb fingers where jammed into her pockets and she kept her face down, looking up at the deck up through her bangs. She stood just beside the helm which was in the tight grasp of Lieutenant Briggs. On the main deck, crewmen worked to keep the sails and rigging in place. Men darted this way and that, slipping on the dicey rain water that coated the deck. Each man wore a lifeline around his middle, all of which were secured to the base of the main mast. Emera tugged on her own lifeline, for the hundredth time, ensuring it's stability. As she did so another Officer clambered up the stairs towards her.

"Mister Flint!" He called over the howling wind.

"Aye?" She replied, blinking water out of her eyes.

"I'm here to relieve you." He told her.

"Thank you." She nodded at him.

Emera scrambled to untie herself. Her deadened fingertips worked franticly against the knot in the rope. After a few moments of clawing she finally managed to loosen herself. The young sailor passed the lifeline to her replacement before making a quick retreat into the belly of the ship. Once safely below she removed her hat and shook the rain from her hair. She must have looked like a drowned rat but she knew just the cure. Emera set to navigating through the tight corridors with only one destination in mind. The narrow passageways twisted and turned almost endlessly. Had the young sailor not spent most of her life aboard the vessel, she no doubt would have lost herself in the maze. However, the pathways had been burned into her memory, making it nearly impossible for her to lose her way.

When Emera entered the galley she was met by the warmth of the stoves and the rich scent of spices. She instantly began to feel better. The galley was a long and narrow area near the ship's stern. At the far end of the space was the kitchen, which was lined with cabinets. A great wood-burning stove sat proudly against the back wall, heating the room as well as the compartments nearest it. Between the kitchen and the door sat long tables and benches at which the crewmen would dine. It was Emera's favorite place on board the ship. She had spent many an hour there in her time serving on _The Rose_. The young sailor shrugged out of her greatcoat, hanging it on a hook by the door before taking her usual place atop a counter. Emmet Hold, or 'Cookie' as the crew affectionately called the old English sailor, worked at the stove. He sang to himself as he threw ingredients into a hefty soup pot.

_"It's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog,_

_ All gone for beer and tobacco._

_ Spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,_

_ And across the western ocean I must wander."_

It was one of the shanties that the men would sing in their spare time and Emera knew it well. It was a silly song with an amusing rhythm. She listened to the old cook sing and watched him dance around the small galley for a while. He noticed her when he turned to grab a clove of garlic and smiled.

"Well now, if it isn't young Miss Emera." He tugged his bandanna in a small salute, "I suspect yer here fer a bit o' soup. Well, ye'll have t' wait a while more I'm afraid. Not ready yet, ya see. Say now, you know this ol' song, sing a verse with yer ol' shipmate."

Without waiting for her to reply he picked up the song again. Emera smiled and joined in, allowing his voice to guide hers through the notes.

_"Where are me boots, me noggy, noggy boots,_

_ They've all gone for beer and tobacco._

_ The leather's kicked about and the soles are all worn out,_

_ And my toes are looking out for better weather."_

Cookie let out a gruff laugh and wiped his hands on his grimy apron, "I, meself, am looking out fer better weather. What a gale we've entered! I can hear the heavens a-booming from here!"

"It's bloody retched out there." Emera hugged herself, a chill still lingering just under her damp skin.

"Aye." Cookie brandished a crooked finger at her, "I warned yer father there was a storm a-brewing. I tells him: Cap'n I can feel it in me bones, I can. But do he listen? Course he don't! I tell ya true, Me Emmy, yer father is as stubborn as a goat. Won't listen worth spit to those what know better than he do."

Emera had to laugh at this. Cookie had been sailing with her father since he had served in the English Navy as a young man. When Flint abandoned the Royal Fleet for Piracy, Cookie was the only one of his original crew that stuck by him. The pair had been together ever since and had the most entertaining habit of arguing like an old married couple. The girl had often bore witness to their many quarrels, which were always more amusing than they were serious.

"I blame myself." She giggled, "I was the one that suggested we make sail for the Grand Bahamas."

"Ah," He narrowed his eyes at her, "So yer the little one what set us homeward bound, eh? What'cha go and do that fer, Me Emmy?"

Emera smiled again. 'Homeward bound.' She loved the sound of that. Flint had claimed a small island just north of the Grand Bahamas and, ultimately, that was their destination. When Emera had suggested that they make port at the English settlement, she had half expected her father to say no. However, the promise of being a stone's throw from home had managed to catch his attention. The plan was to pick up supplies in the Grand Bahamas before sailing for home. In truth, Emera had an alternative motive for setting in at the Grand Bahamas. Still sitting in the bottom of her coat pocket was the crumpled and nearly illegible note she had received not a month prior. It was that very message that had directed her to the English port. So far, everything was going according to plan.

"Aye." She nodded, "I suppose I missed home, is all. I haven't seen Rosa or Mai in weeks... and I haven't gotten word from Michael in ages."

"Hmm..." Cookie scratched at his grey stubble and turned back to the soup pot, "I suppose we've been at sea a while now, ain't we? Mayhaps the crew could do with a spot o' shore leave. And I figure that Dad o' yers will be itching t' see his wife, eh? Not t' mention it gives ya the chance t' catch up with those siblings o' yers, now don't it?"

Emera grinned. He was right. Flint would no doubt be missing Emera's stepmother. The typically gruff and ruthless old Pirate had a way of turning soft whenever Rosa was near. He was absolutely mad about her. Cookie often told Emera that Rosa was the first woman to catch Flint's eye after her own mother was no longer in the picture. However, when Michael showed up the two realized that this wasn't completely true. The young man was the result of a few weeks Flint had spent shacked up in the Philippines. He had met a woman there, Chona, and they had become very fond of one another. When Michael turned 18 he sailed out to the Caribbean, looking for the father that didn't know he existed. By this time Flint had married Rosa. His new bride as well as her daughter, Mai, had made their home on the small island that Flint had claimed. Theirs was a unique family, but it was a family nonetheless.

"That it does." Emera agreed, "I only hope that Michael will be there this time. He hasn't been home the last few times I have. He's always out at sea..."

"Such is the life of an honest sailor." Cookie shrugged, "That brother o' yers is bound by the rules o' the merchant ship he sails on. Why he don't just turn Pirate and sail with us, I haven't the foggiest. Something about duty and honor, no doubt."

"It's simpler then all that." She explained, "He needs the coin, is all. He's still got his Mum t' look out for, ya know."

"Aye, that he do." Cookie nodded.

Emera opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a group of men coming into the galley. The assembly consisted of four crewmen and Philips, Flint's second in command. The men laughed and joked loudly amongst themselves as they crowded around one of the long tables. Philips was a tall, shifty looking man that caused Emera's skin to crawl. He had the appearance of a thief but the attitude of a noblemen. He stood, one boot atop a bench, telling an account of one of his many (and false) acts of bravery. His story telling was childish at best. He formulated sentences as though he was trying to cram as many words into them as possible. And yet the crewmen that sat around him listened with eager ears. Emera rolled her eyes. She knew a man half Philips age who had had twice as many exploits and was blessed with the ability to enlighten any who wished to hear them in the most eloquent manner.

"Cookie!" Philips roared, "A round of grog for these fine sailors and a helping of whatever yer putting together!"

"Aye, Sir." Cookie nodded, "Right away."

The men returned to their previous discussion. Emera ignored them, going back to watching Cookie work. When asked she would toss him various ingredients or supplies. It was something they had done together since she was young and it had become almost second nature to her. She loved helping the old sea cook around his kitchen. It was like a game the two would play together. Toss that, catch this, find something else. Emera was nearly completely immersed in the work when something from behind her caught her attention.

So quietly she couldn't honestly be sure of it, one of the crewmen said, "Didn't know we's had a bar wench aboard."

Emera glance over her shoulder but couldn't be sure which of the four crewmen had made the remark. She wanted to call them out on it. Speaking ill of a Senior Officer was something that shouldn't be left unsettled. While she was trying to figure out which sailor needed to be reprimanded, Cookie had tossed her something. The bag of sugar hit her square in the chest, bringing her back to the happenings of the kitchen.

"Look lively, Me Emmy." Cookie grinned.

"Aye, _Me Emmy._" Came a snickering voice from behind her, "Look lively."

She whipped around this time, not bothering to hide her irritation. She glared at the men who simply avoided her gaze... pretending that she wasn't there. When she looked at Philips, he acted as though he hadn't heard what had been said. The fact that many of the crew didn't respect her was something that she was well aware of. It was something she had to deal with. And she had known that Philips looked down on her since day one. But the fact that he was just standing there, idly, really jaded her.

"Emera, me girl." Cookie set down a few stein glasses full of grog next to her, "Would ya be a dear and help an ol' cook out? Take these t' the gents, will ya? This ol' crutch o' mine makes it a might tough t' carry an arm load."

He nodded towards the wooden crutch that leaned against one of the barrels. Emera knew the story of Cookie's leg well. When he was serving with Captain Flint in the English Navy, their ship had fallen under attack. The Master Gunner was killed by a cannon ball tearing through the gun deck, leaving a dozen or so men without command. Cookie had been educated as a doctor when he had been young. He was on the deck at the time, tending to the wounded and stepped up, taking command. The crewmen were organized in no time, but the ship was still taking heavy fire. A chain-shot ripped through the hull, sending chunks of ship flying in every direction. One of these chunks buried its self into Cookie's left calf, severing the tendons there. Luckily, when the battle was over, he had been able to remove the shrapnel himself, but the damage was already done. The old sailor had walked with a crutch ever since. In the galley, he could manage himself rather well. He often braced himself on the counter tops, hobbling this way and that. However, out in the open he required a crutch to brace himself, which made carrying more than one object at a time rather difficult.

Emera smiled at him, always pleased to do whatever she could to help him, "Aye, Cookie."

"There's a good girl." He smiled warmly at her and passed her the steins.

"Looks even more like a bar wench, she do." They weren't even hiding it now.

"I'd like t' get me hands on her kettledrums!" Another remarked.

"No, Mate!" His friend scoffed, "She ain't got much of an apple dumplin' shop!"

Emera gritted her teeth, both embarrassed and infuriated. She wanted to wrap her waist coat around her more tightly in an attempt to block their view of her chest, but she fought the urge. It would only make them leer at her more. The young sailor knew she had to do something though.

"Sir," Emera addressed Philips now, "Haven't you got something t' say about this?"

"Come now Master Flint." He sneered, "Chop, chop, _Love._ These men have worked hard today and are thirsty."

His voice all but slapped her across the face. She would get no help from him, not that she was surprised. Emera took up the steins and crossed briskly to the table. The young sailor slammed the cups down hard upon the wooden surface, sending grog sloshing in every possible direction. There was an uproar of complaints from the drink covered men but Emera only shot Philips a snarky smile.

"Yer drinks, _Sir_." She snapped.

"Why you little -!" Philips wiped his face angrily.

She turned back to look at Cookie, "I've just remembered that the Captain has work for me t' do. Perhaps I'll come back later when it isn't as crowded."

With that she turned on her heel, snatched up her greatcoat and marched out of the galley without looking back. She stalked down the corridors, grumbling to herself. Emera knew that there was little could be done to change the attitude of the men. Most of them hated the idea of taking orders from a woman and weren't afraid to show it. Even though her power aboard the ship was limited, she was of higher rank than those crewmen. Them, she could deal with. Philips was an entirely different story. While she had the authority to punish the crewmen, she could do nothing about her superiors. Emera tried to shrug off the bitter feeling that clung to her but couldn't seem to manage it. She felt used and helpless.

When the young Pirate reached the Officer's Cabin she trudged to her bunk. Like the galley, the Cabin was a long room. It housed the sleeping accommodations and belongings of all the Officers. Their bunks were arranged so that the highest of rank were closest to the door and the lowest were farthest back. Emera, being only of moderate importance, was stationed in the middle of the room. Her hammock and belongings were between that of the Bos'n, a man called Peterson, and Lieutenant Briggs. She flopped down into her hammock, dropping her coat beside her.

Emera stared up at the low ceiling, still stewing and hugging herself. She couldn't wait to get to the Grand Bahamas. For the last several days she had all but counted down the hours. The young sailor leaned down and rummaged through the pocket of her greatcoat, her fingers closing around a bit of parchment. She pulled out the note. Since receiving it in Tortuga a month ago she had carried it with her everywhere. This, of course, resulted in the bit of paper becoming quiet tattered and smudged. Even still she could make out the muddled, swooping scrawl that covered its rumpled surface. She read through it a few times, smiling to herself. The words always had a way of cheering her no matter how bad her mood was.

If all went well, in a few hours she would be in the company of Captain Jack Sparrow.


	2. Part 2

Emera stood, looking up at a faded old tavern sign. At one point it had been elaborately painted in shades of golds and blues, however now it was dingy and weatherworn. Seashells had been carved into the wood at one point, surrounding the words: _The Mermaid's Song. _The young sailor glanced down at the parchment in her hand to assure herself that she was indeed in the right place. She was. Taking a breath to steady herself, she stepped through the doors. Despite its rundown exterior, the tavern seemed to be in good shape. There was a bar along the far wall and circular tables filled every available space, only a few of which were occupied. The walls looked as though someone had started decorating them but had grown bored part way though. A few portraits hung on the walls and a half finished seascape mural took up the back wall. To the left of the bar was a rather large bronze statue of a Mermaid. She was perched on a rock, combing her hair with a fish bone. Her mouth was open as though she were in the middle of a song.

Emera sat down at an empty table near the door and scanned the room. Even though she hadn't seen Jack for 7 months, she knew that she would recognize him at once. His look was unmistakable. She glanced from table to table, looking for him. Jack wasn't any of the tavern's patrons. She sighed and slumped in her chair. It had taken ages to convince her father to let her go off on her own. Ever since her adventure in Tortuga, Flint had become increasingly protective of her. She couldn't really blame him, though. In Tortuga she had nearly been trampled, got into a tavern brawl, snuck out in the middle of the night, been attacked by an enraged Pirate Lass and nearly caught her death of cold after leaping into the ocean. Emera had to swear oath after oath to him, ensuring that she wouldn't do anything fool hearty. Now, as she sat in the middle of a tavern waiting for Jack, she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it.

The barkeep walked by and eyed her for a moment before saying, "Begging yer pardon, Miss. But would you happen to be Emera Flint, by any chance? Emera Flint what's good friends with Captain Sparrow?"

"Aye." She nodded, hope fluttering in her chest, "That's me."

"I thought so." He smiled at her, "Captain Sparrow told me that I would know you by yer short cropped hair and boyish face."

She stuck out her lower lip a little, irritated, "He said that?"

"Aye, he did. He also said that if I saw a girl of yer description, and who was called Emera Flint, which you are, that I was supposed to give you a message from him." The barkeep wiped his hands on his apron.

"What is it?" Emera nearly leapt to her feet from excitement, "What's the message?!"

"Now let me think a moment." He rubbed his hand across his chin, "He said that I was t' tell you in very particular words..."

He fell silent, thinking. Emera all but wanted to leap to her feet and shake the words out of him. She hadn't heard from Jack in half a year. Anything could have happened to him in that time. In fact she often fell victim to horrible fanaticise in which he had been captured or killed. It was a constant worry of hers. Having lived the life of a Pirate since she was young, she knew all too well what could be fall a gentlemen of fortune. Now, sitting with the promise of hearing from him at last, she could scarcely contain herself.

"Ah, yes!" The barkeep said finally, "He says: 'Emera Love, hold tight and don't do anything stupid.'"

She could almost feel her heart sinking, "Is... is that it?"

"Afraid so, Miss." The barkeep shook his head, "He does usually come back round this time, he does."

"Right... Thank you." She settled into her chair again.

The young sailor waited at her table, slight anxiety boiling just under the surface of her skin. Every time the door beside her swung open she would whip around, expecting to see Jack come sauntering in. He never did. Two hours and as many mugs of mead later, Emera was still alone. She fought with herself silently, debating whether she had been stood-up or if Jack was even in the Grand Bahamas at all. If what he had said in his note was true, then he had already been there for a few weeks. It was entirely possible that he had gotten bored of waiting for her and left. In fact she wouldn't have put it past him to forget all together that he was supposed to meet her.

She sighed and looked around the tavern again. In the time that the Pirate had been sitting there, the room had slowly emptied itself out. Now Emera was among only a few lone costumers, not surprising for the middle of the day but depressing nonetheless. She sat at her table unaccompanied and trying to decide if she should leave or not. If she left then she risked missing Jack, however if she stayed there was no guaranty he would show. She cursed under her breath and silently wished for him to parade through the door.

The barkeep walked by again and gave her an almost apologetic smile, "Can I get you anything else, Miss Emera?"

"No." She shook her head, "I'm alright."

"It's not like the Captain t' be late, Miss. I'm certain that whatever's keeping him is of the most importance." He tried to comfort her, "Just you wait. I know he'll come walking through that door any moment now."

"I'm sure yer right." She smiled weakly.

Just then a voice came from behind her, "_Pst!_ Emera, Love!"

Emera's breath caught in her throat as she turned slowly, "... Jack."

The young sailor's heart pounded as she took him in. He was just as she remembered. All tanned skin, dark eyed and handsome. At once she was filled with a feeling that was all too familiar. A mass of emotion flooded into her chest. It was as though they had never parted. He was leaning in through the door, a look of urgency on his face. Something wasn't right. She stood and crossed to him quickly.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice low.

His eyes darted around the bar, "We need to speak... but not here."

"Then why did you- ?" She didn't get the chance to finish her question.

He took her by the arm and lead her out into the street. By the grip he had on her arm it was clear that something was amiss. What she had expected to be a joyful reunion was actually just the usual rushing about that seemed to come from being in Jack's presence. Rain sloshed down over the sides of buildings as he lead her around the corner and down an alley.

_'An alley again.' _Emera thought bitterly, _'Why is it always an alley?'_

He lead her to what looked to be the back of a shop. Crates and barrels clung to the wall in precariously stacked piles, looking ominous in the dim light. Luckily the building had a roof which over hung into the alley. It would make for a fine shelter against the rain. Once amongst the shipping supplies, Jack turned to her.

"Emera Flint." He greeted her, "You haven't changed one bit."

He opened his arms to receive her in a hug. Emera, however, was holding out her hands for his. Realizing what the other had been expecting, they quickly adjusted. Now Emera stood with her arms open while he offered her his hands. It was the all too memorable gauche that was their relationship. At least she hadn't punched him this time. The young sailor bit her lip and let out an embarrassed giggle. Jack cleared his throat, but smiled.

"What's going on, Jack?" She asked, braking the uncomfortable silence, "Why are we out here getting soaked instead of in the tavern getting drunk?"

"Far too quiet in there. We could be over heard." He shrugged, then added, "It's good to see you Em."

"You too ." She nodded, "What have ya been up t'? Where did you go? What became of _The Jolly Mon_? What's this venture you mentioned in yer note?"

"One thing at a time, Darling." He laughed softly, "_The Jolly Mon_ and I have had quite the number of run-ins. I've been unearthing the tale of what's become of my beloved ship, the one I told you about. Do you remember?"

"Of course." Emera nodded, "What have ya learned?"

"Well," He continued, "I've recently spent some time in La Martinique... or St. Dominique... It's all a blur really. Anyway, I met a fine gent along the way that has some information regarding my lost vessel. However this information comes with a rather hefty price tag."

"When doesn't it?" She shrugged, then asked, "What does he want?"

"It's complicated... which is why I am in need of your assistance... and valuable which is why we are in need of privacy." He gestured to the space around him.

"This involves the Ball you mentioned... doesn't it?" She raised an eyebrow.

Jack smiled, clearly pleased that she remembered, "It's not just any Ball. It's a _Masquerade_ Ball. Honestly, Love, your timing is impeccable. The Masque is being held in two days time. Invitation only, of course, but I've got that sorted."

"I don't understand... why do you need my help?" She shook her head a little, "Surely you could handle this on yer own."

"This is a two person job, Love." He explained, "And not only are you incredibly trustworthy, you also have certain... attributes that I think would come in handy."

She opened her mouth to scold him for staring at her chest but stopped herself. As annoyed as she was at being leered at for the second time that day, she couldn't help but notice Jack's hair. Of course it was just as disheveled and adorned as usual, but there was a new addition to his trinkets. Hanging just beside his face, clearly visible to Emera, was the blue and silver sea coin she had given to him the last time they had seen one another. He had fastened it to a dreadlock using the very cord that had once held it around Emera's wrist.

"You kept it." She said without thinking.

"Eh?" He furrowed his brow, not following her train of thought.

Emera rubbed the back of her neck, "My sea coin, I mean. You kept it."

"Of course I did, Love." He shrugged a little and smiled gently, "Why wouldn't I keep your forget-me-not?"

"I half thought that you would lose it. I am rather glad t' see that ya haven't." She felt a little embarrassed by her sentimentality.

The young sailor looked away and scratched at her left palm. Her nails scrapped across the rough and jagged scar there. Emera had gotten it the night she and Jack had parted. As it would happen, if one is to scale down a drain pipe, one should wear gloves. The pale, raised marking served as a reminder of that night. In a way, it was a forget-me-not as well. Whenever she looked at it, Emera thought of Jack.

She changed the subject, "What exactly is it we're going after, then? At this Masque?"

"Love, it's a wondrous thing the likes of which I'm sure you've never seen." He lowered his voice, "The Masquerade is in honor of the Duchess Lavinia Folconi's birthday. The Ball is at the same time as the Midsummer's festival so we'll have plenty of distractions about. While there will be many a fine trinket but, what we're after is far more lovely then mere trifles. What we're after is a _golden mask._"

"A golden mask?" Emera repeated flatly.

"Aye." He nodded, "Gold and set with all manner of precious jewels. Just look for yourself, Darling."

Jack reached into his coat and retrieved a rolled up piece of parchment. He spread the sheet out on a crate for Emera to see, smirking slightly as her eyes widened in astonishment. On the parchment was a sketch of the treasure they were seeking. It was no ordinary be-jeweled mask. It was modeled after a peacock, with long feathers fanning out all around the top of the halfed-face. The edges of the mask were rimmed with gems and the eye holes were trimmed in strips of precious metals. Of course the illustration was in simple ink, but whoever had drawn it had taken time to note every valuable piece of the costume, scribbling descriptions here and there.

"The feathers..." Emera gawked at the drawing, "They're..."

"Gold, emerald and sapphire. Aye." Jack's voice was soft.

"And around the eyes... that's..." She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Silver." He nodded.

"The... the face piece... is that entirely...?" The girl trailed off in amazement.

"Made of gold." He assured her.

"How much is it worth?" She tore herself from the drawing in order to look at him.

"A fortune." He tucked the parchment back into his coat, "My patron only wants one part of it, the center feather. It's apparently worth the most as it is the dew drops are actually diamonds."

"Diamonds!" She breathed.

"Help me and we split the rest right down the middle." He grinned, his voice tempting her, "Half for you and half for me. What do you say? "

"No doubt it'll be dangerous..." She bit her lip.

He closed the distance between them, pinning her between a crate and himself, "The most perilous, to be sure."

"And if I refuse?" She raised an eyebrow and tried her damndest to ignore how close his face was to hers.

"I don't think you will." He murmured as he studied her.

"Ya hardly know me well enough t' make that sort of assumption, Captain Sparrow." She remarked coolly.

He raised his eyebrows, "Really? I don't think so. I know you well enough to know that you can't pass up temptation like this. You live for it, Darling. The running, the fighting, the thrill of danger around every bend... you love that more than life itself."

"A very lucky guess." Every fiber of her was aware of the distance between her mouth and his.

"Is it lucky to guess that if you say no to this... you'll go back to your little ship and sit in your little cabin, hating yourself and wondering what you've missed out on?" He angled his head to one side and nearly whispered the words.

"I don't... I don't have a cabin." Emera was losing her ability to concentrate, "Not t' myself, at least."

He ignored her, "Trust me, Love... you want this. I can see it in your eyes. You can hardly resist the promise of... _adventure_. All you have to say is 'Captain Sparrow, take me with you.' I'll share with you all the thrills and sensations that you crave. What say you?"

"Captain Sparrow..." She spoke softly, almost against his lips, "take me with you."

"As you wish, Darling." He whispered back.

Each part of Emera's being was telling her that snogging Jack would be an absolutely brilliant idea. Apparently she had missed him more than she originally thought. There seemed to be an invisible chain between them and with each breath it tightened. It tautened until Emera was certain that she had to either act on her impulse or risk having her chest explode outward. She didn't much fancy the idea of her chest bursting. She moved to cover his mouth with hers.

Jack, however, was evidently immune to whatever force had a hold on Emera.

"Good." He said with a satisfied tone.

He pulled back and turned to walk in the opposite direction, thus severing the fantasy chain linking him to Emera. It broke with a nearly tangible snap. Emera, who had been caught completely unaware, nearly fell forward onto her face. She faltered away from the crate, but Jack didn't notice. He was too busy making plans aloud.

"...The only real thing to keep in mind is finding the mask once inside... I don't really expect the Duchess to be parading around in it... most likely it'll be on display somewhere in the main house..." He talked to himself.

"I..." Emera cleared her throat, trying not to let him hear the disappointment she knew was present in her voice, "I should go."

"What?" He spun around to look at her.

"I should go." She repeated herself, "I've got duties that need attending too."

"Oh... of course." He nodded, "Do me a favor?"

"Last time I did you a favor I was nearly killed." She smirked at him.

"Be that as it may," He ignored her, "this particular outing requires certain attire."

Emera sighed and said flatly, "I'm wearing nearly everything I own. My wardrobe is rather limited."

"Not a problem." He assured her, "Once again I've got it sorted."

"You do, do ya?" Emera raised an eyebrow.

"Naturally." He returned to her side and pressed a bit of paper into her palm, "Meet me at this address tomorrow. We can find what we need there."

She nodded and smiled at him, "Deal. I'll be there."


	3. Part 3

It was still pouring outside as Emera made her way to Flint's cabin aboard _The Rose_. It was beginning to look as though it would never let up. Rain pelted the sails and deck in a steady rhythm that accompanied the low conversation of the deck crew. The ship (which was anchored just off shore) rocked to and fro with the stormy waves. As if attempting to keep her balance wasn't enough to concentrate on, Emera was also grappling with herself. She knew that she needed to ask her father's permission to be ashore on the night of Midsummer's, however, try as she might she couldn't manage to get him alone. He was far too busy managing all the happenings of the crew. Now, late as it was, she assumed he would be in his cabin. No doubt Flint would be working over the days reports or madly scribbling in his Captain's log. It wasn't the best time to disturb him, this Emera knew. But it would be the only time she could do so without an audience present.

As she approached the cabin she silently rehearsed what she was going to say. Emera was confident that she had put together a rather fine argument. However, when she reached the door to her father's cabin, all feelings of certainty were replaced with the sensation of ice forming in the pit of her stomach. Philips had just left the cabin. He shut the door behind him but did not move from her path. Instead he simply stared at her, smirking. She held her ground and marched towards the door with purpose.

"Well if it isn't young Master Flint." Philips spoke in a low voice and leaned against the door, "No doubt come to see her Daddy."

"I have business with the Captain." She replied flatly, "Let me pass."

He ignored her, "I didn't take too kindly t' the stunt you pulled in the galley, Em."

"_Don't_," She warned him, "call me that. Only my friends call me that. Now let me pass."

"Yer lucky I don't report you." He glared at her, "That's twice now that ye've insulted a Senior Officer."

"Let. Me. Pass." She repeated slowly and clearly.

He grabbed her wrist and marched her until her back was to a wall, "Ya think that just because yer the Captain's daughter I can't touch you? Well yer wrong. I could make yer life a living Hell, Master Flint. Yer precious Daddy won't always be around t' save ya. You don't belong here. Ye've never belonged here. In fact yer vary presence aboard this ship is an insult to every sailor what calls himself a man o' the sea! Yer a weak and useless little girl and I'll not have you parading around here like some smug little bitch!"

Emera took a breath to steady herself, "Either flog me or let me pass, Philips. I don't have the time it's taking for ya t' make up yer mind."

He let go of her roughly, "Get out of my site. We won't always be a stone's throw from yer father's cabin. It's high time ya start watching yer back, Emera Flint. Mark my words, yer time is coming."

"I'll keep that in mind." She shoved past him and hurried towards the cabin door.

Captain Flint's cabin was located at the stern of the ship below the Officer's galley. Along the back wall were a bank of windows which looked out over _The Rose's _wake. Just in front of the windows sat a tall-back armchair and a proud oak desk. In front of the desk sat another, smaller chair. The top of the deck was generally covered in stacks of parchment as well as trinkets. Ink pots and heavy leather-bound books were also typically among the mess. Along the left wall were tall bookshelves which stored everything from small boxes to the treasures Flint had found on his many adventures. The right wall was home to a birth which served as the Captain's sleeping accommodations. In the corner near the door sat a large, old globe. Flint often bragged that it was one of the first ever made. He would often point out where things had been drawn incorrectly or not at all.

At the moment, however, the good Captain was sitting in his tall-backed armchair hunched over what looked to be a pile of maps. Emera shut the door softly behind her as she entered. Upon seeing him she was almost afraid to disturb him. He looked lost in himself. The young sailor cleared her throat a little. Flint looked up at her from under his bangs. For a moment it looked as though he would tell her to get out. But then his eyes lightened. He ran his rough hands over his face, as though attempting to rub off the stress of whatever he was working on. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"We missed you at supper." He commented casually.

"I wasn't hungry." Emera shrugged.

He chuckled a little, "Well don't just stand there in the doorway like a stranger. Come here, sit down. Tell me what you got up t' today."

Emera felt a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she moved to take her usual seat on the chair in front of the desk. "Bloody" John Flint (named so for his mess of ginger hair) had an air about him that Emera simply couldn't describe. He had a way of inspiring those around him with few, if any, words. His men all but worshiped the ground he walked and hailed him as a great leader. There wasn't a single man on board that wouldn't defend Captain Flint and _The Rose _to the last breath. Flint was a real man of the sea who was composed of strong arms, richly tanned skin and a surprisingly handsome face. He, somehow, was able to inspire both respect and fear at the same time. As much as his men loved him, he was so much more to Emera. To say that she idolized her father would be an understatement. He was her everything. For as long as she could remember her whole world had been wrapped around him. Him and only him. Ever since she was little, Emera had dreamed about growing up to be just like her father. She wanted to be brave and strong and fearsome.

"How was town?" He pressed.

"Good." She nodded, silently reformulating her question, "I ugh... I ran into a friend."

"Is that so?" He smiled.

"Aye, and he -"

"He?" Her father cracked a smile, "Do I happen t' know this young man?"

"No." Emera giggled a little, "But he's a good man, I can assure ya. He invited me to a celebration two nights from now."

"What kinda celebration is this?" Her father leaned back in his chair.

"It's just a street festival." She lied, "For Midsummer's. Ya know: Food, music, dancing... that sorta thing."

Flint grinned at her again, "You've never been one t' take part in festivals. I thought ya hated parties. Why the sudden change?"

"No reason in particular," Emera shrugged, "I thought it might be fun."

"Well," Her father rubbed his face again, "I don't see why ya couldn't go. You said two days from now?"

"Aye, that's right." She scratched at her left palm again but smiled, "And I... I wonder if... if I might borrow some money from you?"

He raised an eyebrow, "You've still got yer share from our last haul, do ya not?"

"It's just... I don't think it'll be enough." She told him.

"Enough for what?" He ran a hand through his long ginger hair.

"For... for..." She shifted uncomfortably and found herself silently wishing for a mother to have this discussion with instead.

Emera's mother, Abigail North, had vanished when the young sailor was still only a small child. No one, not even Flint, knew what had become of her. She had run out one night leaving only a note and a silver locket (the one Flint now wore around his neck) in her place. In the locket was a small family portrait that Abigail had commissioned while in London. The note she left had read:

_I'm sorry. I love you both._

Now, Emera had never really known her mother. And right up until Flint married Rosa, the young girl hadn't known what it was like to even have a mother. It had always just been her and her father, the two of them, together as a team. As a child she had grown up on Flint's Island where she really only had her father as a friend. The result of this was that the two of them had grown incredibly close. In fact Emera found herself wondering, from time to time, why anyone would need more than just one parent. One seemed like more than enough. Flint had never run out of time or unconditional love for her. However, on occasion, there were times that she felt cut off from him. As every daughter knows, there are some things one simply can't discuss with their father, no matter how strong the bond is. Some things are only for a mother's ears. And it was during those rare moments that Emera found herself wishing for a mother. Rosa was wonderful... but sometimes her stepmother wasn't exactly what she needed.

"Well it is, I need a dress." She managed to spit out, embarrassed slightly.

"A dress." Flint stared at her.

The young sailor nodded and plunged on, "Aye, t' wear t' the festival. I don't need anything too nice. I'm not asking for something Royalty would wear. But at least something that's better than what I've got - which is nothing. I know it's ridiculous and that I don't have anywhere else to wear it but... I just need one, alright?"

Flint sat there, blinking at her for a moment. She wasn't sure if he was going to burst out laughing or shake his head and shrug her off. However as she waited for him to say something, she thought that anything would be better than shocked silence. Then he cracked a grin and leapt to his feet before coming around the desk in order to pull her into a bone-crushing hug.

His chest rumbled with laughter as he said, "By the stars, I thought this day would never come!"

"Eh?" She didn't understand.

"Bless yer wee heart!" He crushed her even tighter before releasing his grip and holding her at arm's length, "Emera, since you were a young Lass ye've never wanted anything that wouldn't be useful. Do you remember what ya wanted me t' bring back for you when I went t' Paris?"

"I wanted a telescope." She replied, still confused.

"Aye! A telescope! I offered t' bring ya back a dress or shoes or books or toys but all ya wanted was a telescope! And when I asked you why," He beamed down at her, "ya said it was because a telescope was more practical."

Emera furrowed her brow at him, "I still don't understand why yer so happy."

He pulled her back into a lung-flattening embrace, "I suppose I was always just a little worried that ya felt you could never ask anything of me. Yer young, yer supposed t' want irrational and pointless things. I would be more than happy t' buy you a dress, Bean."

"Really?" She managed to choke out from under his arms.

"Aye!" He laughed again, "I've got a pouch of gold pieces that should be more than enough for a fetching gown."

"Thanks Dad. This means a lot t' me." She wriggled her way out of his grip and smiled up at him.

He beamed down at her for a moment before his brow furrowed and he asked, "This Lad doesn't have something t' do with it... does he?"

"Umm..." She hadn't been expecting this, "Well, he's sorta related t' it. I suppose."

"Ya know Bean," He raised his eyebrows, "I've always taught ya t' be careful but not all men are as forceful as I might o' let on. Some of them are right sneaky bastards that'll slither their way into yer heart and then take what they want."

"What part of 'he's a good man' did ya not hear?" She giggled.

"I just worry about ya, is all." He hugged her again, "I don't what t' see ya hurt."

"I'll be careful, Dad. I promise."

He let her go and ruffled her hair playfully, "You bloody well had better be! Now if that's all you should be off. I got work t' be doing and I don't need yer yapping t' distract me."

"I'll just leave ya t' it then." She beamed up at him, returning his playful tone.

Emera stole one last hug before retreating towards the door. When she opened the portal she was suddenly struck by a thought. The young sailor turned back to look at her father. He was already sitting behind the desk again.

"Dad?"

"Aye?" He smiled again.

"What did Philips want? He was leaving when I got t' yer door." She asked.

He shook his head a little, "Never you mind, Bean. It's only a bit o' business that needed sorting. You've got far more important things t' worry about, like that Lad of yers. Ya know I expect an introduction."

"Maybe after the festival." She replied sweetly, "If everything goes well."

"Deal." He nodded.

Although she was in significantly higher spirits when she left the cabin, she couldn't help but wonder what it was that Philips had wanted. It seemed lately that the man had been skulking around in the shadows more than usual. Something twinged in the back of her mind, telling her that the First Officer was undoubtedly up to something. Although she knew it was probably just her imagination and general dislike for the man, she couldn't seem to shake it. It lingered somewhere just under the surface of her skin as she made her way to the galley.

Emera shook her head to clear it of anything related to Philips. Her father was right, she did have more important things to worry about. Now that she had permission to leave the ship, it was time for her to concentrate on the Masque it's self. She had never been to an elegant party before. All she knew of them was what she read in books and the stories she heard. The celebrations she had been too hadn't been much more than street festivals or small crew affairs held aboard the ship. She expected that the Masque should be rather different. In fact she realized that it would be like nothing she had ever experienced before. What had Jack said? That it was being held in honor of the Duchess Folconi's birthday? The folk attending would be rich, high society types that no doubt all knew exactly what to do and what to say. Emera wouldn't have any idea how to behave. She knew she certainly didn't look the part. The young sailor thanked her lucky stars that it was a masquerade, at least then her face would be covered. But what of the rest of her? She was hardly a budding example of femininity.

When Emera opened the door she saw Kay sitting atop one of the long tables. The girl looked over her shoulder when she heard Emera come in, and smiled. She was a short, buxom young woman with a head full of gold hair. The two Pirates had met in Tortuga (the same night Emera had met Jack) in a tavern. A brawl had broken out and the two had fought back to back in the center of the room. A few days later Emera had offered Kay a position aboard _The Rose._ They had been close friends ever since.

"So?" Kay flashed her a mischievous grin, "How did it go?"

Emera rolled her eyes, "I dunno what yer talking about ya Merry-Begotten."

"Oi, Long Meg! Just asking a question." Kay stuck out her tongue and made a face, "You met him today right? Did he show up? Did you talk? Did you snog?"

Emera planted herself beside her friend, "Aye, I saw him today. We talked and nothing more."

"Shame. Did he explain his interest in Masquerade Balls at all?" She asked, bracing her elbows on her knees, "That part of the note made no bloody sense at all."

Emera quickly explained the conversation she had had with Jack that afternoon, briefly outlining the details of the job they planned to pull. With each detail Kay became more and more excited. Naturally, as best friends do, the two girls shared everything with one another. As could be expected, Kay knew every detail about what had taken place between Emera and Jack seven months ago. The two had spent many an evening huddled away in the galley discussing and overanalyzing everything that had happened. Kay was set in her theory that it was simply a matter of time before Jack would sweep her off her feet or steal her away from life aboard _The Rose._ Emera disagreed. She was certain that whatever Jack felt for her, it wasn't the same as what she felt for him... and that was the one thing she never told Kay. Perhaps this was because she couldn't even admit it to herself yet. The feelings were still far too complicated.

"Oh I can just see it, Em!" She bubbled, "You all dressed up like a woman of fine breeding and Jack looking like a proper gentlemen! The pair of you waltz in, get the mask and waltz out again without ever raising suspicion! It's bloody brilliant!"

"Brilliant only if it works." Emera added with a sigh, "I don't know the first thing about acting like a Lady. I don't even know how t' dance!"

Just then Cookie hobbled out from the back of the galley and into sight, "Did someone say 'dance' or do me old ears swindle me?"

"Em's got t' learn how t' dance like a right courtier before Midsummer's." Kay explained simply, "Hopeless if ya ask me."

Emera nudged her in the ribs with her elbow.

"Not hopeless at all, me thinks." Cookie gave them a warm smile, "I know a thing 'r two about dancing, I do. Never you worry, Me-Emmy. We'll have ya sorted out in no time."

"You... know how t' dance?" Emera was shocked.

"Aye, that I do." The old sailor straightened himself on his crutch, "Before this blasted leg o' mine went fowl I was quite the gentlemen, I was. There were few what could court a Lady as well as I."

"Then you can teach her t' dance?" Kay smirked.

"That I can." He nodded, "Mind you Miss Kay, it'll be a team effort. I make fer a lousy partner these days."

"Well," Kay said with a satisfied grin, "that's sorted. Now we just have t' make ya look the part."

"What?" Emera said flatly.

"You can't bloody walk into a party looking like ye've just served aboard ship for half a year!" The girl explained, crossing her arms.

"I _did_ just serve aboard ship for half a year!" Emera argued, "I'm far too tan and... craggy t' pass for anything but a Pirate! This was a mistake! I never should have agreed t' this!"

Kay took hold of Emera's shoulders and shook the young sailor, "Get a grip on yerself woman! By the time we're through with ya, yer own father won't recognize ya! Now then, when are ya buying the dress?"

"Tomorrow." Emera shrugged out of her grip and took out the parchment Jack had given her earlier, "He gave me this address."

Kay took the rumpled paper and eyed it for a moment, "Hmm... right. I'm coming with ya. You'll need someone with experience t' act as yer consultant."

Emera snorted, "Experience. When have you ever had this sort of experience."

The girl's face became suddenly serious, "Emera Flint, I have an older sister and three older cousins who are all happily married. Ya don't sit through that many weddings without learning a thing or two about gown shopping."

"Fair enough." Emera agreed with a smile, suddenly feeling more prepared.


	4. Part 4

*** Sorry about the long wait for this Part. I've been rather sick as of late and wasn't able to get around to posting this. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part of the adventure. I promise that the next update wont take so long.***

The next morning Emera and Kay woke early to meet Jack. Rain fell from the sky in a pathetic yet unrelenting drizzle. The young sailor scowled up at the clouds as she and her friend made their way down the street. The way she saw it, if it was going to rain it might as well be a storm or nothing at all. Finding the shop didn't take very long. Emera knew the Grand Bahamas almost as well as she knew herself. She had practically grown up there. In fact, the young sailor liked to believe that if she were blind folded she would be able to navigate herself from one end of town to the other. The two girls found themselves strolling down a line of houses and wondered if Jack had given them the right address. Sure enough, however, he was standing out front one of the houses looking slightly annoyed.

"Well you took your time." He greeted bitterly, "I've been standing here for ages. Who's this?"

"I suppose that makes us even. I waited around for God only knows how long yesterday while you took yer sweet time meeting me." Emera shrugged, "This is Kay. Kay, this is Jack."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, actually." He tipped his hat to her, his attitude suddenly improved.

"So... what is this place?" Emera looked around, "Doesn't look like any of the shops I've ever seen."

"That's because it isn't." Jack smiled, "Shall we?"

He offered his arm, which Kay took happily. She flashed a mischievous grin to which Emera only rolled her eyes. She took Jack's other arm, allowing him lead the way. He sauntered up to a door with the two girls, knocked smartly and waited. He gave Emera a look that was no doubt intended to assure her that he knew what he was doing. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes again. He could be so damn cocky sometimes. After a moment the door opened to reveal a woman. She was tall as well as slender, with a broad smile and a keen eyes. Her dark, raven coloured hair held a few strands of silver at the temples. From the look of her, she must have been in her fifties or sixties. Her face was lined with age, but she was still incredibly beautiful.

She regarded the three of them with a warm smile before saying, "Well, if it isn't my little Bird-Boy! And he's brought friends as well! Come in, come in!"

The woman's accent, Emera noted as they were ushered inside, marked her as being from Trinidad. She welcomed the three Pirates into her home before sweeping across the small space and settling into a rocking chair. The room was of a good size and looked to be the kitchen of the house. There was a fire burning dully in the hearth along the far wall. A table stood to the right while an outcrop of cabinets sat to the left. Over all it appeared to be a normal room, the sort that could be found in any home on the island. However, there was one main difference which set it apart from any home Emera had ever been in. Every available space was taken up by fabrics, clothing and sewing supplies. Baskets of the stuff overflowed onto tables while half finished articles lay over chair-backs. The garments that Emera could see as finished looked to be made out of other pieces of clothing. A waistcoat, she noticed, had been stitched together using old skirts and a pair of leather breeches. The garments were all strange but fantastic. Emera had never seen anything like it in all her life.

"Now then my little Bird-Boy, what can I do for ya this time?" The woman asked with a knowing smile.

"Madame Bridgett, my dear, my heroine of costumes, my Goddess of fabrics, I require your most excellent gift once again." Jack gushed.

"Naturally." Madame Bridgett nodded, "Just for you? Like last time... or will the young Ladies be needing my help as well?"

"Just myself and the scrawny one. I don't know why the bosomy one is here." He glanced at Emera and Kay.

"Easy enough." Madame Bridgett shrugged, "And what will ya be needing? What sort of venture are ya on this time?"

"It is of the most grievous importance." Jack began.

As he explained their situation to Madame Bridgett, Emera and Kay explored the small room. They could find no end of beauties and treasure. It seemed as though every knook had been filled to the brim with gorgeous pieces. Kay was examining what looked to be the beginnings of a dress while Emera walked along the table, studying the garments there. Her fingers brushed the fabrics as she looked them over. She had never really been one for dressing up or fussing about her looks. Clothes had never been important. So long as they were comfortable and functional, she didn't much care what they looked like. Still, she couldn't deny the beauty of what she was seeing. The table was laden with all manner of fineries.

The thing that caught her eye sat at the end of the table. Emera crossed to it, mouth open slightly in amazement. Laying there was a magnificent mask. It was black with elaborate golden trim. Glimmering filigree sat around the eyes of the half-face. A wide brim surrounded the top potion of the piece, curving down and folding forward on either side. Pinned upon the left of the brim were two fabric roses, one black and the other gold, with bits of black satin ribbon falling from beneath them. It was utterly stunning. Flint had been right when he had said that Emera had always wanted practical things. That beautiful, sparkling mask was the least practical thing in the room. And she wanted it so badly she could hardly stand it. In fact, had Jack not called over to her right that moment, she was certain she would have tucked the costume piece under her coat before making a break for the door.

"... I believe that about sums up our plan, anyway." Jack finished, "I'm I forgetting anything, Darling? Love? Emera?"

"Eh?" She dragged herself away from the mask.

"Infiltrating the Masquerade. Am I forgetting anything?" He asked her.

"Oh... umm... I don't think so." She shrugged.

He glared at her a little but smiled, "You weren't listening."

"No... Sorry." She rubbed the back of her neck a little.

"No matter." Jack turned back to Madame Bridgett, "Honestly, if your able to turn that one into a Lady, I'll be surprised."

Madame Bridgett smiled at Emera, "I've dealt with worse. You were a handful yerself, Bird-Boy. Turning you into a cleric was no small feat."

"A cleric?" Emera raised her eyebrows and even Kay turned around to listen.

"Now you pay attention. It was some time ago. Church of England. It's a rather long story." Jack summed up for her, "I suppose I'll -"

"You'll have to tell me some other time." Emera grinned at him, "I know, Jack."

"You girly," Madame Bridgett stood, "come here. I'll need to take yer measurements."

Emera complied and moved to the center of the room. Madame Bridgett set to work, measuring every inch of the young sailor with a long length of knotted rope. When she finished she called Jack over and measured him as well. Then, apparently having all she needed, the woman took a seat in her rocking chair and began jotting things down in a red leather bound book. It was silent for a long time. After awhile Madame Bridgett made a small noise of satisfaction and closed the book. She thanked the three for their time and proceeded to usher them out of the house, claiming the need for solitude if she would ever get the costumes done. As they were shooed out the door, Madame Bridgett told them that she would send her nephew to fetch them when the clothes were done.

"Now what?" Emera asked as the three Pirates stood outside the house.

Jack thought for a moment, "How about a drink?"

"Thank you, but no thank you." Kay smiled.

"Oi!" Emera crossed her arms, "I want a drink."

"No time." Kay smiled, "We have work t' do."

"We do?" Emera raised an eyebrow.

"We do." Kay confirmed.

With that the Pirate Lass linked arms with Emera and marched her down the street and away from Jack. Emera managed to wave at him before he was out of sight. Emera's stomach flipped slightly as it occurred to her that the next time she'd see Jack would be at the Masquerade. She suspected that the 'work' Kay had mentioned were the dance lessons she had agreed to. The walk back to the ship was short and, on Emera's part, full of dread. She knew she wasn't going to enjoy what was to come.

The moment Kay and Emera returned to _The Rose_, they had made their way to the galley to prepare. The room had been deserted seeing as dinner had been some time ago. Only Cookie was present, tidying up around the kitchen. He greeted them happily and took a seat in a chair near the kitchen. The two girls set to clearing a space in the hall so there would be room for Emera to practice. After some rearranging of the furniture the room was ready. Following Cookie's instructions the girls took their places in the center of the room. The old sailor kept time by banging his crutch on the deck while shouting out directions.

After half an hour, Emera was ready to quit. She had a tendency to lead instead of follow, which often resulted in her either being stepped on or tripping. Kay had tried her best to stand in as Emera's partner, but the size wasn't a good match. The buxom Pirate Lass was much shorter than Emera was, which lead to several problems regarding leg-length. Emera was frustrated and tired and distracted.

"Ow! Kay mind yer ruddy feet! Ya stepped on my foot again!" Emera snapped sharply.

"Well maybe if ya stopped trying t' _lead_ we wouldn't have this _problem_!" Kay argued back, popping her hands on her hips.

Cookie dropped his face into his palm and sighed, "Come now Me-Emmy, ya nearly had it that time. Once more and ye'll get it. I know it, I."

"This is ridiculous!" Emera shouted as she kicked an unsuspecting chair, "I'm no good at this! How do people do it?!"

"It's just dancing, Em." Kay smiled a little, "It's not that hard."

Emera slumped down on the floor against a wall, "I wasn't built for this kinda thing. I'm far t' gangly. I barely know where I'm stepping! This was a mistake... this was a horrible, horrible mistake! I never should have agreed to this!"

"Calm down Em." Kay squatted next to her friend, "It's going t' be alright. We'll figure something out."

"Ya nearly had it that time." Cookie smiled, "Try it again. Just once more."

"I should be familiarizing myself with the layout of the manor... I don't know where it is or what it looks like. I'm going in practically blind! Dancing is a waste of time! I need to prepare for a fight t' break out! Not a minuet!"

"Em." Kay said flatly, "Get a hold of yerself! Yer acting like a Nigit! Now stand up, brush yerself off and try again!"

Emera stared at her friend for a moment. Kay was right, she was over reacting. But she couldn't help it. The young sailor was nearly petrified with fear. The part about not knowing what she was getting herself into was true. She didn't. Jack hadn't given her any details about the manor they were sneaking into. This, of course, lead her to believe that he was just as clueless as she was. If only she had thought to ask him earlier. They would be going in without knowing where the mask was or how to find it or how to get out once they had it. In retrospect, learning to dance was the least of her worries... but at the moment it was the only thing she had any control over.

Emera nodded slowly, "I'm sorry... yer right. Let's try again."

"Good." Kay beamed and helped her to her feet.

They moved out onto the floor and took their places. The dance they were learning was the minuet. Cookie claimed that it was popular and that it was the most logical one to learn. He took up his crutch again, striking it at even intervals against the floor, keeping time. He called out the steps, which the two girls attempted to follow. They came together, gripping hands lightly, then moved apart again. They moved in circles, turned around one another and walked in straight lines. In theory it should have been simple, however Emera was having a world of trouble keeping the movements straight. It was as though her limbs weren't actually attached to her body. Suddenly she had become a marionette doll, her strings being pulled by an invisible puppet master. She fought against herself, desperately trying to move in the right way. She stumbled again and let out a shout of frustration.

Cookie chuckled, "Ya nearly had it that time, ya did! Once more and I know it'll be perfect!"

Emera opened her mouth to snap a reply at him but was cut off by someone entering the galley. Annoyed at herself, she spun on her heel with the intention of screaming at whoever it was. Luckily she managed to stop herself once she saw who it was. Her father strode into the room with a grim look on his face. Clearly he was just as irritated as Emera was.

"What the _bloody Hell_ is going on down here?!" He fumed, "Up in my cabin and all I can hear is _bang, bang, bang_! And before that it sounded like ya were moving the ruddy furniture about!"

They could only gawk in terrified silence for a moment before Cookie cleared his throat and stepped in, "Ya see Captain, it is we're helping the young Master Flint learn t' -"

Emera let out a sound that resembled choking in an attempt to silence the man. The last thing she wanted was for him to know what they were up to. The conversation about the dress had been bad enough. All she got was an irritated look from the old Cook and a concerned glance from her father.

Kay finished the explanation, "Learn t' dance. She doesn't know how and is worried she'll make a fool of herself tomorrow."

"Aye, that be true Captain." Cookie nodded, "Young thing's right useless at it. Would take a miracle to teach her, it would."

Flint visibly relaxed and let out a rumbling chuckle, "By the stars, why didn't ya say so earlier? Ye'll never learn t' dance like this! What ya need is a teacher that actually knows what he's doing."

"Oi!" Cookie glared at him.

"Emmett me Love, we both know yer rubbish at dancing." Flint said with a smile.

"I'm better than you, ya old coot!" Cookie shot back, "Last time I saw ya dance was in the Navy! I doubt ya can even keep yer footing, I do!"

"Of the two of us," Flint smirked, "which has a wife?"

Cookie grumbled under his breath.

"And how," Flint crossed to Emera and offered her his hand, "do ya think I won over my fair Lady? It certainly wasn't by sailing. Now, keep time and watch carefully. Ya might just learn something ya craggy Bung Nipper."

With that, Flint began. He bowed to Emera and she curtsied in response. From there he lead her in the dance. At first it seemed as though everything was going well. Emera followed her father's movements carefully and mirrored his steps. It looked like she might actually be getting it but then came the turn she had been dreading. Her toe caught on her heel as she stepped and the young sailor tripped. Frustrated at her own feet she broke out into a wave of cursing. She even made a kick at the innocent chair again. The minuet just wasn't her forte. It wasn't how she was used to dancing. Emera's experience in such matters had always involved a lot of alcohol and an equally large amount of spinning or stomping. She had no talent for the refined. All she wanted to do was crawl into her hammock and hide under her blanket.

Her father gave her a sympathetic look and studied her for a moment, "Take off yer boots, Bean."

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Ya keep tripping over yer own feet." He laughed a little, "Yer boots keep catching on one another. Try it without them."

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and did as she was told. Kicking her boots to one side, the Pirate took up her place once again, barefoot. Emera followed her father's lead for the second time. She stared at his feet in a desperate effort to match his steps. When it came time for the turn the young sailor was amazed to find that Flint's theory had been right. Without her boots she was able to move more freely. Of course the steps were still shaky and clumsy. She felt uncertain on her own feet, almost as though she had spent too much time on land. But she was improving.

"Hold on, hold on." Flint waved a hand to silence Kay and Cookie, "Emera, do that step again."

She did, "Like this?"

"Aye..." He watched her move, "What are ya doing, Bean? Look at yer feet, are they chained together? Yer moving like Cookie."

"Oi!" Cookie argued.

"Shut it!" Flint waved his hand again, "Now, I've seen ya fight, Bean. I know that you can move. Dancing is just like swordplay. It's all about yer foot work. Take a fighting stance."

"Right." Emera nodded.

She got into position, her lead foot pointing forward and her back foot taking the majority of her weight. The young girl bent deeply at the knees, lowering her center of gravity. Her left hand took its usual position on her hip while her right mimicked holding a sword. Emera nodded at Flint again, signaling that she was ready. He chuckled and crossed over to her.

"Good... good." He smiled, "Perfect if we were sparing but all wrong for dancing."

"But you just said- " Emera argued, straightening.

"What are ya doing?! Back into position!" He snapped playfully, "I know what I said."

"Make up yer mind." Emera grumbled.

Flint walked around her in a slow circle, "Now then, like I said this is rubbish for dancing. But with a few modifications ye'll be set."

He walked around her once again, however this time he made adjustments as he went. A tap here to tell her to drop a hand, a nudge there for her to straighten, a soft kick to bring her legs together. By the time he was finished she was standing straight up, her legs together and her feet in the 'L' position that came from a fighting stance.

"Much better." Flint grinned, "Keep yer weight on yer back foot. Perfect. Hold yer arms out on either side and we'll give it another shot. Cookie! Get that crutch o' yers ready!"

It seemed to Emera that they must have practiced half a hundred times. Over and over and over again, they went through the steps. Whether it was because she genuinely needed to go over the dance that many times or if the others were just using it as a distraction, Emera couldn't tell. All she knew was that by the time they finally called it a night, she was too exhausted to worry about anything. She wondered, as she made her way back to her cabin, if Jack had been torturing himself with practise as well. She rather doubted it. Still, the idea of him prancing around an Inn room somewhere made her smile. Emera suspected that one way or another, she would eventually find out. She hoped all her practising would be worth it.

The young sailor flopped into her hammock, visions of the minuet still whirling through her head. She thought about what it would be like to really dance with someone. Excitement bubbled somewhere, in a place the rest of her body only seemed dully aware of. She was far too focused on the world outside herself. It was dark in the Officer's cabin and the ship rocked gently beneath her, lulling her to sleep. She had never been so comfortable in her life. The Pirate drifted off with a smile on her face, thinking about Jack and trying to imagine herself on his arm.


	5. Part 5

Emera sat up to her waist in a wooden tub of soapy water. She clutched herself, teeth chattering and shivering in the freezing bath. Despite being only a few feet from the galley's stove, the water was like ice against her skin. Kay knelt beside the tub, scrubbing vigorously at Emera's hair. The girl had rolled up her sleeves and taken charge when she witnessed Emera's attempt at washing her own locks. Apparently she hadn't been doing it right.

"Is this really necessary?" Emera managed.

"Yes." Kay replied flatly, "Ya smell like a sewer. I'll not have you looking like a Lady but smelling like something that died. When was the last time you bathed?"

Emera shrugged, "Umm... last time I fell overboard?"

"That would explain the layer of dirt I can't manage t' get off." She scrubbed even harder.

"Ow! Do ya need t' use yer nails?!" The young sailor snapped.

"If I don't ye'll never come clean, now stop moving." Kay ordered.

Emera shut her mouth knowing it would be pointless to fuss. When Kay set her mind to something, she was unstoppable. It would be best to simply sit and wait for her to finish. The message that Madame Bridgett had finished the costumes had come at midday. Since then Kay had been Hell bent on making Emera look 'presentable.' The first order of business was a good scrubbing to remove the dirt and smell. Even when the young sailor had argued that most Ladies of rank didn't bathe either, Kay had simply shushed her. She claimed that most Ladies of rank didn't serve aboard a ship as part of their day to day routines. And so, as Emera sat grumbling under her breath, Kay worked her magic.

"There," The buxom Pirate said with an air of satisfaction as she dumped a bucket of water over Emera, "I think yer done."

"Finally!" She managed through her teeth, "Pass me that towel, will ya? I'm freezing t' the skin!"

Kay tossed her the large piece of cloth, "And whose fault is that? It wouldn't have been so cold if ya hadn't spent half an hour arguing."

"Somehow I doubt that." Emera snorted as she dried herself off, "If I catch my death of cold I'm blaming you."

"As long as you look nice, you can blame me for whatever ya want." Kay shrugged.

"Ever the empathetic." She smirked.

"Ever the over-dramatic." Kay shot back playfully, "Now get dressed."

Emera grumbled as she pulled on the clothes that had been laid out for her. Kay had also insisted that her usual attire be washed as well. The fabric smelt heavily of soap, abolishing its usual aroma of dirt and sweat. Emera didn't like it. She missed the feel of grit on her skin and the smell of adventure. She hardly felt like herself now that those things had been taken away from her. Still, it would only be for a short time.

"Take a seat." Kay pointed to a stool.

"What for?" Emera raised an eyebrow as she pulled on her boots.

Kay sighed, "So I can do something about that muddle ya call a head of hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" She shot as she sat down.

"Lots of things." Kay muttered, "Now hold still."

Kay took up a fine toothed comb made of a tortoise shell and set to work. She tugged at Emera's tangled locks, working through them slowly. The comb was designed to not only straighten out one's hair but also remove anything that might be living in it. Emera sat gripping the edge of the stool as her mane was yanked at. She clenched her teeth to keep herself from swearing each time Kay's comb ripped out a knot. After awhile the process became less painful until finally there was nothing but gentle pulling.

"Ya know, with yer hair so short there's not much I can do with it." Kay said as she worked, "Still... I could braid yer bangs if ya like. At least that way they'll stay out of yer eyes."

"Alright." Emera nodded, "Anything to keep my vision clear."

Kay chatted happily as she braided, "I can hardly wait t' see ya all dressed up. I bet you'll look like a fine young Lady, though. And Jack should make quite the fetching young gentlemen, don't you think?"

"That he should." Emera smiled a little to herself.

"Now that I've met him, I can tell why ya like him so much." Kay continued, "He's just as charming as you said... and handsome too. I'm surprised you left that part out."

"I hadn't noticed." She shrugged.

"_Of course_ you haven't." Kay laughed, "Well, I'm certain ye'll notice tonight."

"What makes you so sure?" Emera raised an eyebrow.

"Just a feeling." There was a smile present in her voice, "Here, take a look at yerself."

She passed Emera a small hand mirror. The young sailor stared at the reflection in the glass. The girl gazing back at her was someone she hardly recognized. It wasn't often that Emera saw her reflection, but she was accustomed to seeing a grim coated, stringy haired, craggy young Pirate. Not a well groomed, clean young Lady. She was amazed at how different she looked without the thick rings of kohl around her eyes or the tangles in her hair.

"Oh dear Lord..." She breathed, "What have ya done t' me?"

"I've made you look presentable." Kay beamed proudly.

"I don't look like myself at all." Emera blinked a few times in amazement.

"Then ye'll pass perfectly for a Lady of the court." Kay rolled down her sleeves, "Now go and fetch everything you need for tonight. You should be off t' meet Jack at Madame Bridgett's."

"Aren't you coming?" Emera whipped around to look at her friend.

"I wish I could." Kay shook her head slowly, "I've got duties that need attending too but I know ye'll be fine. So ya better not ruin that dress before I get the chance t' see it! Now step lively! You don't want t' be late, do you?"

"No... no yer right." Emera nodded as she screwed her courage to the sticking place, "I should get my things."

Kay placed her hands on Emera's shoulders, "Go make me proud! And have some ruddy fun for once in yer life, will ya?"

"I will." The young sailor nodded, "And thanks... for everything."

Emera rose to her feet and embraced her friend in a quick hug before hurrying off to her bunk. She tried to keep her head down as she moved through the corridors. She didn't fancy running into one of the men while looking the way she did. A joke about how much of a girl she was would be all it'd take to unravel the calm she had crafted for herself. Somewhere deep inside her guts she was panicking like she had never panicked before but on the outside she was able to hold herself together. At least for now, anyway. She had to keep reminding herself that, despite the dread she was feeling, everything would go well. And why shouldn't it? She had Jack Sparrow on her side. So long as she trusted in him, everything would be alright. Even still, superstition is a sailor's curse. She made the effort to knock on the wall of the ship for good luck and prayed she hadn't just jinxed herself.

She was able to collect her things without much of a fuss. She turned to leave the Officer's cabin and nearly ran head long into Peterson, the Bos'n. She stared up at the man, holding her ground and certain that he would make some sort of sly remark regarding her appearance. He blinked down at her for a moment before cracking a smile. Not a knowing smirk or a sneer but a genuinely good-hearted smile.

Peterson touched his forelock in a small salute and said, "I suppose yer off then, Master Flint?"

Word has a way of spreading around a ship the size of _The Rose._ It wasn't a wonder that Peterson knew she was going into town. By now more than half the ship would know she was going ashore. She straightened herself and took a breath.

"I am." Emera nodded and returned his salute.

"Right, well... have a good time." He smiled again.

"Thanks." She stepped past him and made her way to the door.

"Oh, and Master Flint?" He called after her.

She turned, "Aye?"

"If it's not to bold to say... you look rather fetching." He said kindly.

"Thank you, Bos'n." Emera was sure her face had flushed, "That's sweet of you."

He gave her one last nod before she retreated from the cabin. Louis Peterson was a relatively new addition to the crew. When the old Bos'n had drunk himself to death 5 months ago, Flint had been desperate to find a replacement. Louis had approached the Captain and Emera in a tavern one evening while in St. Kitts. Flint liked the look of him, despite his being only a few years older than Emera, and so he was taken on as the new Bos'n. He was a tall, rather lanky fellow with fine blonde hair and an oval face. He wore a number of earrings through his ears as well as a collection of bracelets around his wrists. He looked like a man who had traveled all his life, which was appropriate considering that before signing onto _The Rose _he had been a wanderer.

When Emera reached the mainland she didn't hesitate in hurrying to Madame Bridgett's home. She only barely noticed that it wasn't raining anymore. It was growing late and there was no doubt in her mind that Jack would already be waiting. The Ball was set to start at sundown, which from the light she could tell would be in a few short hours. Just enough time to get ready and find the manor. When she reached the house she didn't even bother knocking, the young sailor simply slipped through the door. Jack and Madame Bridgett were standing in the middle of the room chatting. They looked up when Emera entered, regarding her with kind smiles.

"Your late." Jack laughed.

"It's a curse." She shrugged, "Sorry."

"Not to worry." Madame Bridgett nodded, "Yer here now. Let's get to work."

"Right." Jack and Emera said together.

Madame Bridgett swept across the room to a door and yanked it open. She marched into the room without a second look. Jack and Emera followed, glancing at one another. Jack gave her a look that told her not to worry. The room they entered was a parlor of sorts. The far wall, which must have looked out on a garden, was lined with windows which were all closed by curtains. Another door sat in the right hand wall, leading off into another room. The parlor was full of comfortable but worn furniture. A low table sat in the center of the space, surrounded by couches and chairs. A beautiful wooden dividing screen sat between the parlor and the closest left corner. Emera looked around the space. Laying out over the two identical couches where the costumes Madame Bridgett had prepared. They were stunning.

"There you are." Madame Bridgett gestured to the clothes, "All set out and ready. Girly, I assumed ya don't have a corset or petticoats so I prepared a set for you. They're here behind the screen. I'll help ya change. Jack, you can dress yerself out here."

Emera crossed to the screen and ducked behind it. Shoved up against the wall was a trunk. On top of it sat a mess of clothing, some of which she recognized and some of which she didn't. The young sailor was grateful that Madame Bridgett was assisting her. She had no idea how to put on half of what lay before her.

"Strip down to yer under-things, Girly." Madame Bridgett instructed from the other side of the screen, "I'll be in to help ya in a bit."

She began pulling off her clothes, tossing them beside the trunk. Once she was down to her undergarments she picked up the corset and examined it. Emera had never so much as held one before. It was surprisingly lovely. The piece was lined with whale bone and was made of the finest linen. Madame Bridgett slipped behind the divider. She smiled when she saw Emera gawking at the corset.

"Have ya ever worn one before?" Madame Bridgett asked kindly.

"No. Never." Emera shook her head a little.

"It's not as bad as all those little girls make it out to be." She assured her, "Put on yer stockings and let's get started."

The young sailor yanked on the knee length stockings and straightened. Madame Bridgett held up a skirt. Emera stepped into what was sure to be the first of many petticoats. The woman fastened it around her waist before taking up the corset, which she unclasped then held out for Emera. The young sailor slipped into the garment like it was a waistcoat.

"Do up those buttons, Girly." Madame Bridgett instructed kindly.

"Right." Emera nodded.

From somewhere out in the next room came a shout, "Auntie! There's a woman here to pick up an order!"

"Perfect timing as always. Be back shortly, Girly." The woman sighed before shouting out a reply, "Coming, Love."

Madame Bridgett strode out of the room, leaving Emera alone behind the screen. She finished doing up the buttons and then stood there, uncomfortably for a moment. Not sure what else to do, she attempted to lace herself up. Of course it was no use. She could hardly reach what she needed to and what she could reach was a mess of tangled ribbon. Honestly, the young sailor had no idea what she was doing. She gave up. After several minutes passed she realized that Madame Bridgett's business was probably going to take some time. And she needed help. She tip-toed to the screen until her nose was to it. Then, she took a deep breath, hardly believing what she was about to do.

"Umm... Jack?" Her voice broke the silence.

"Aye?" He replied.

"Do ya... err... do ya know anything about lacing up corsets?" She asked feeling completely ridiculous.

"I know a great deal more about taking them off, Love." He joked, "Still, I think I could muddle my way through it. Are you in need of a hand?"

"I am." She admitted.

She heard him chuckling as he approached the screen. He came around the edge and Emera hardly would have recognized him. The tattered old bandanna that usually sat across his brow had been removed. Jack had tamed his typically wild locks, tying them back into a low ponytail. Emera had never seen his whole face before nor had she ever seen his ears. She wasn't sure what would have expected. But nonetheless he was still Jack. He was also half dressed in his costume. He wore a fine white shirt and a gold brocade waistcoat. Black breeches fell just below his knees, leaving his legs and feet bare. He smiled when he saw her and laughed a little again.

"Turn about, Love, so's I can get at your lacing." He made a spinning motion with one finger as he spoke.

Emera turned her back to him and they fell silent. He closed the distance between them, setting to work. The young sailor always imagined that being cinched into a corset would be en par with being stretched out on a medieval rack. But it wasn't. In fact the only sign that Jack was tightening the lacings at all was the occasional tugging she could feel along her spine. And of course the slow hugging sensation around her middle. She held her arms against her chest, keeping them out of his way. She dreaded the idea of becoming tangled up again. She couldn't help but notice that the silence in the small corner felt heavy for some reason. Almost as though she could reach out and touch it if she wanted to. But she didn't dare move. She felt stuck to the spot on which she stood.

"Is that too tight?" Jack asked softly.

"No." Emera replied in the same tone, "It's perfect."

"Excellent." He said, "I'll just tie you off then."

He finished off the knot quickly but his hands lingered around her waist. She could feel his cheek resting against the side of her head, almost as though he wanted to whisper something to her. They stayed like that for a few breaths. Finally Emera couldn't take it anymore. She turned around slowly and gazed up at his face. He looked almost nervous.

"What's wrong Jack?" She asked, her voice soft.

He shook his head a little, "Nothing, Love. I was just thinking about how cramped it is back here. Reminds me of the last time we were in a tight spot together."

Emera was sure it was a lie but she didn't argue, "The day we first met. Ya scared me senseless, ya did."

"I saved your life." He defended himself, this time with a genuine smile, "If not for me you would have been trampled."

"I seem t' remember you being the cause that particular near death experience in the first place." She laughed a little, "Come t' think of it, you've been the cause of nearly _all_ my brushes with death."

"Occupational hazard." He shrugged.

She laughed again and noticed the loose cravat around his neck, "How is it you can lace a corset but you can't tie a cravat?"

"It's less to do with the actual tying and more to do with it being around my neck." He made a face, his eyes widening.

"Pirate." She smiled at him, "Here, let me."

"How do you know how to do that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She took up the thin fabric and looped it around his neck a few times. Honestly, tying it wasn't that difficult. It was just a small matter of tucking, folding and tying. How he didn't know what to do somewhat astonished her. Still, he had a point about tying something around his own neck. Jack, no doubt, feared the hangman's noose just as she and everyone else who called themselves Pirate did. It was a completely understandable terror. Emera tucked the ends of the complete cravat under the front of his waistcoat and smoothed it down, letting her hands rest on his chest.

"I'm good with knots." She shrugged, "There, all finished. Now ya look like a proper young man."

He flashed her another smile, his arms tightening around her waist a little. She had nearly forgotten they were there. He studied her face with his dark eyes. The riot of feelings she hadn't experienced since their reunion the other night bombarded her chest. His nose brushed hers as he leaned towards her. Once again, the invisible chain linking them threatened to rip her heart out if she didn't close what little space there was between herself and Jack. She thought it funny how the intense feelings only overwhelmed her when the pair of them were in close-quarters. When he kept his distance, she could function normally. The instant he came near, however, was a completely different story all together.

_'Don't you dare punch him this time.'_ She told herself sternly.

Unfortunately it didn't matter. Just as Emera was sure her lips would meet Jack's, Madame Bridgett swept back into the room complaining about the poor timing of her other costumer. Emera couldn't help but see the irony as she and Jack shoved away from one another in a blind sort of panic. He dove out from behind the screen just as Madame Bridgett came around the opposite side. Emera forced a smile through her disappointment. What were the chances? At this point they were 0 for 3.

"Ah, ya got that on I see." Madame Bridgett smiled then she furrowed her brow a little and turned back to the gap she had come through, "Where's Jack? Is he not in the parlor?"

"How should I know?" Emera shrugged, trying to look innocent, "I thought he was out there."

"Huh?" Madame Bridgett scratched her arm a little but turned back to Emera, "No matter, I'm sure he's fine. Let's get ya sorted then."

With Madame Bridgett back it took only a short time for Emera to get completely dressed. The gown the seamstress had selected was incredibly beautiful. It was in the Polonaise style which meant that it gathered in swags at the back of her waist. Emera had seen such dresses from time to time in shop windows, but she never thought she would wear one. The base layer of fabric was of gold brocade which happened to be, she noticed, the same pattern as Jack's waistcoat. The layer over that was of fine black linen and opened up down her front so as to show off the gold beneath. The black linen sleeves stopped just above her elbows but the gold spilt out from underneath, taking the shape of a bell. Over top everything she wore an underbust bodice of black brocade and gold fastenings.

When Emera had stepped out from behind the dividing screen Madame Bridgett had ushered her over to the full length mirror which hung on one wall. For the second time in one evening the young sailor didn't recognize her own reflection. Standing before her was a fine Lady of rank, not the dirty and grungy Pirate she normally was. Jack, who claimed he had stepped out to use the loo when Madame Bridgett returned to help Emera, now leaned against the back of one of the couches. Emera turned to him and noticed that he too was completely in costume. He had added a pair of tall black boots as well as a leather satchel. His tricorn hat sat atop his head and he also wore frockcoat that matched Emera's black linen dress. The coat was lined with more gold brocade as well, which could be seen on the rolled cuffs of his sleeves. Madame Bridgett must have had a multitude of that fabric, for it was the only explanation for why they were both outfitted in it.

"You two look like perfection itself!" Madame Bridgett beamed and clapped her hands together, "I hardly recognize the pair of ya!"

"Well then," Jack straightened himself, "shall we be off?"

"I think we're still missing a few things." She giggled and hiked up her skirts to reveal her stoking feet.

"Shoes! How could I forget the shoes!" Madame Bridgett rushed from the room still shouting, "And ye'll both need masks! Ya can't go to a Masquerade without masks!"

She returned in no time with a basket in her arms. The woman set her things down on the low table. Madame Bridgett rummaged for a moment before pulling out a pair of heeled slippers for Emera. These too were gold with pointed toes and buckles on the fronts. She set them on the floor, claiming that they should be just Emera's size. Gripping Jack's arm for balance, the young sailor slipped into them. To her surprise Madame Bridgett was right. They fit perfectly. With that sorted the woman returned to her basket and pulled out two masks. One was a simple black half-mask which Madame Bridgett handed to Jack. The other was the magnificent gold and black piece that Emera had fallen in love with the day before.

"For you, Girly." Madame Bridgett said with a smile, handing Emera the mask, "I saw ya looking at it the other day."

"I... I don't know what to say." Emera beamed.

"Say 'thank you!'" The woman laughed.

"Thank you!" Emera couldn't believe it.

"Now, you two better be on yer way!" The woman said, noting the time on the wall clock, "Ye'll be late! My Nephew has the cart ready out front for ya."

Emera hugged Madame Bridgett tightly. The Pirate really didn't know how else to express her gratitude, although she was sure that the pouch of gold pieces she had left in the kitchen would do a good job. It was amazing how quickly the seamstress had been able to prepare such elaborate costumes. Clearly she was some kind of sewing Goddess. Emera turned to Jack, ready to take his arm and leave, but he was down on one knee retying his bootlace.

"Come on, Jack." Emera said with a smile, "She's right, ya know. We're going to be late."

"Hold on, I almost forgot something." He said from where he knelt.

Jack patted his pockets as though looking for something. He made a face then looked down at his hand and smiled. He set to working a ring off of his left pinky. It rather took some doing. He made a few faces as he twisted the small golden band this way and that. Finally though it came loose. He pulled it off and held it up to Emera with a smile. Her heart practically stopped in her chest as she recognized what he was doing.

"Emera Flint... Darling." He said softly, "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"


	6. Part 6

Emera couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. In fact, the only things she seemed capable of were blinking and holding on to her mask. She stared down at Jack, not believing that she had truly heard the words that escaped his lips only a moment before. Her legs had gone to jelly but she refused to let herself fall. Emera wasn't sure she even knew how to fall anymore. It seemed that she had completely forgotten how to do anything. It was several minutes before the young sailor started to become aware of her body again. She found she was able to open her mouth but was still incapable of making noise. Her lips opened and closed a few times, no doubt making her look like a fish out of water.

Finally, Emera found her voice, "Wha... what did you just say?"

"I asked you to be my wife." Jack said furrowing his brow, "Are you alright, Love?"

"I'm fine... I just..." She didn't know what she was.

He rose to his feet, "I know it's not the most desirable option. Even if I believed in such things I wouldn't want to marry me. While I am implausibly fantastic at everything, I'm rather certain I would be rubbish at husbanding. In any case, the folk I swiped our invitation from are married, hence half the reason I required you on this venture. It would be best if we at least attempted to play the part. So let me put the ring on you already."

Emera had to bite her lower lip to keep herself from bursting out into laughter. She had, for the briefest of moments, allowed herself to think that his proposal was an honest one. If that had been the case, she didn't know what she would have done. Relief swept over her leaving giddiness in its wake. She could only nod at him and smile, holding out her left hand. He took it in his, giving her a concerned look. That was all she needed. A snort escaped from her. She clamped her hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to keep her laughter in as he slid the ring around her finger. It didn't work.

"Alright, Love?" He asked, straightening.

She nodded, to busy sucking back air to issue a reply. The restraints of her corset made it difficult to get enough air. She braced her hands on her lower back and straightened herself, gazing up at the ceiling so she wouldn't have to look at him. Emera was sure that if she did she would start laughing again.

"I'm fine." She managed, still looking up, "I'm fine. Ya just gave me one Hell of a fright, is all. I thought I was going mad!"

He grinned at her, "You thought I was sincere?"

"You were down on one knee!" She gestured, still giggling, to where he had been kneeling, "What was I supposed t' think? And don't even get me started on yer inability t' speak plainly!"

"I have a flare for theatrics." He said with a shrug and a flourish of his hand.

She shoved him playfully, "Well yer _theatrics _nearly stopped my heart. Now come on, _husband_, we should go."

"Aye, I think we should." He agreed with a wide smile.

The two said their goodbyes quickly as they hurried to the cart Madame Bridgett's nephew had waiting. When the woman had said 'cart', she had meant 'cart.' It looked as though someone had thrown a blanket over a hay wagon in an attempt to make it look somewhat like a chay, then harnessed it to an old horse. There wasn't time to complain, however. The sun was already beginning to go down and the Masquerade was across town. The two Pirates climbed into the chaise without a second thought. Madame Bridgett's nephew, a boy named Elijah who was no older than Emera was, took up the reins and made a clicking sound with his tongue. The old horse started off at a walk but was prompted into a light trot with another click of the boy's tongue. At last they were off.

The cart rocked side to side, tossing it's passengers this way and that. It was nothing less than a rough ride. But compared to some of the sea storms the Pirates had weathered, it was nothing. In a way it was almost familiar. The rhythmic motion of the cart was rather a great deal like being aboard ship. The horse, which Emera was quite weary of, was the only real difference. She had never been around an animal any larger than a goat before. The monstrous creature was terrifying in comparison. She didn't much fancy the idea of being trampled by its thundering legs, but Jack seemed at ease and so she didn't say anything. Instead the young sailor carefully fastened her mask about her face in the hopes that it would hide her true feelings.

"There are a few things we should go over before we arrive." Jack mentioned in an unconcerned tone.

"Alright, go ahead." Emera nodded, shooting a few glances at the horse's back.

"As you know, this evening we will be taking on the characters of two incredibly wealthy young people. Your name is Mary. Mine's Robin. We're newlyweds married last spring. We met through your Aunt who is a dear friend of my Mother's. We fell in love instantly. Up until rather recently we've been staying with my Uncle in the English countryside, but we sailed out here three months ago in order to raise a family in the New World. I think it's a brilliant idea, you're still not convinced. We want four children, two boys and two girls, but we're waiting until we've gotten settled. We know the Masque's host through your father, whom I'm in the merchant business with. You keep house however you do rather enjoy taking afternoon strolls. You take your tea with two sugars, I take mine plain, savvy?" He finally broke off for a breath.

"You've really done yer research, haven't ya?" Emera blinked at him, amazed that he could remember so many trivial details.

"Not really." He shrugged, his eyes gleaming out from under his mask, "I made up about half of it."

"Which half?" She blurted, unable to keep a hint of panic from her voice.

His only response was a wink and what any other person would have deemed to be a charming smile. Emera jutted out her lower lip, annoyed. She knew that she should be excited rather than irritated. She was attending her first ever Ball, for goodness-sake! But the knowledge that she was going in hilariously unprepared did a fine job of quashing whatever enthusiasm she had. And there was also the matter of Jack's nervous expression earlier.

"Jack..." She said softly.

"Aye, Love?" He replied.

"Ya do know what yer doing... don't you?" She asked earnestly.

Jack laughed a little and took her hands in his, "Darling... look at me. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! I _always_ know what I'm doing."

"Ya haven't a clue, do you?" She smirked a little, taking what little pleasure she could from calling him out on his haughtiness.

"I assure you, Love," He apparently wasn't going to fold, "I've got it completely under control. You needn't worry your pretty little head."

She gazed at him, then asked, "You think I'm pretty?"

"Well, at this particular moment... and in the right light... I'd say that you aren't fully difficult to look at." He said, his face stoic, then he cracked a grin.

"Oi!" Emera laughed, "In that case, I'll have you know that yer only half as wretched as I originally thought."

He raised his chin a little and looked down the length of his nose at her, "Which half?"

She mimicked his earlier response, simply winking and flashing him a smile. He grinned at her, clearly pleased. Emera found it somewhat funny. If she spent her whole life following him around she was certain that she would never fully understand what delighted him and what didn't. It seemed to vary widely. One sort of joke left him looking grim while another wholly serious statement would make him laugh. It appeared as though his sense of humor had been put in his body the wrong way round. Although with Jack, that wasn't the only thing about him that looked to be back to front. Emera found herself in constant awe of his peculiarities whenever in his company. It was unique and something she greatly enjoyed attempting to keep up with.

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned back a little in his seat. The clear presence of him beside her was comforting. Emera found that her nerves seemed to calm slightly. Looking down at her hands she took a moment to admire the ring he had given her. It too proved to put her strangely at ease. The ring band was gold with risen bumps making a slight filigree pattern. A smooth black pearl no bigger than a dewdrop sat in the center. It was bizarre to wear a wedding band, even if it was just make-believe. The young sailor had never imagined that she would ever bare such a symbol. From a young age Emera had known she would never get married. What kind of a man would ever want to put up with a woman like her? She glanced at Jack and smiled to herself. What kind of a man, indeed.

After a while they reached the manor. Elijah brought the cart to a halt just in front of a huge rot-iron gate, then leapt from his seat and ran about to help the two Pirates. Emera took his hand as she attempted to disembark the chay. The multiple layers of fabric she wore made it impossible to simply jump from the cart like she would have liked to. Jack nearly laughed himself silly as he watched her struggling. She made a rude gesture, biting her thumb at him. He only smiled before hopping out of the chay without so much as a single problem.

"Thank you for getting us here." Emera smiled at Elijah.

"Anything for my Auntie's favorite costumers." The young man smiled.

Jack pressed a small pouch of coins into Elijah's palm, "Wait just down the street for us to return. It shouldn't take long."

"Course." He nodded.

"See ya soon." Emera smiled.

The two Pirates passed through the gate and started up the long cobblestone lane towards the house. Large trees lined the road on either side all the way up to the manor. The house was in the classical style, with clean white walls. Smooth pillars made the building look like a Greek Temple. In the center of the manors face, leading up to the massive front doors was a set of double stairs facing out in each direction. Huge paned windows sat at even intervals in the white walls, looking out between the pillars. Laying at the foot of the grand manor was an elaborate garden with wild looking plants that Emera had seen in the depths of island jungles.

_'Rich people.'_ She thought dully, rolling her eyes at the exotic greenery.

The pair ascended one of the staircases, making their way quickly to the grand double door which stood open. Two men, servants no doubt, stood on either side of the entryway. Both were dressed in matching formal attire. They regarded Emera and Jack in a professional, almost unconcerned, way. The one on the right stepped from his post to meet them in front of the massive doors.

"Your invitation, Sir." He held out a hand.

Jack reached into his coat and pulled out a glossy piece of paper which bore intricate handwriting. He passed it to the serving man, who took it with a slight flick of his wrist. He read over it quickly, his expression never differing from vague interest. When the man was satisfied he passed the invitation back to Jack and stepped from their path.

"The Masque is being held in the back garden. Proceed down the first corridor to the left and straight on through the library." He told them in a polite yet brisk tone.

The two nodded in response and hurried into the manor. The outside, impressive as it was, could not compare to the interior. The space folded out before them in a grand foyer. In the center of the room sat a large marble staircase which was flanked on either side by two identical corridor entrances. The floor was also marble, patterned in simple black and white. The peeked ceiling above them rose impossibly high, holding in place the biggest chandelier Emera had ever seen. It glimmered with the glow of countless candles which set the room below in a bath of light. The young sailor could have gawked at the room for hours but Jack took her arm and lead her down the left hand corridor. Here doors were set into the walls every few steps. Some were open, leading into other equally glorious rooms. Others remained tightly shut. As they made their way towards the library, Emera wondered how Jack was managing to contain himself. She could hardly think straight from wanting to explore the recesses of the manor. Curiosity burned at her insides, screaming for her to discover what secrets might be afoot.

When they reached the library, Emera thought her heart might stop. It was two floors, the shelving reaching right up into the shadows of the ceiling. There must have been thousands of books just waiting to be yanked from their resting places. She had never seen so many pages in one place. The space smelt heavily of old parchment and candle wax. Emera couldn't help but take a few deep breaths, filling herself with it. No doubt all the answers to any questions she might have lay somewhere within that library. As they passed a long table in the center of the room Emera noticed that it was littered with maps. Some looked old and others looked as though they were still being charted. The young sailor nudged Jack with her elbow, nodding towards the maps. She saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes as they gave the maps a once over. He smiled at her and leaned in close.

"We'll have to come back this way and see if we can't tuck a few of those into our pockets, eh?" He whispered, glee in his voice.

"Agreed." Emera beamed at him.

They finally came to stand before a large French-style door. To their surprise a few other people stood there as well. They seemed to be waiting in some sort of line. Both Jack and Emera craned their necks, trying to see around the others. It was no use. But listening, they could hear the sounds of music, laughter and light conversation coming from the other side of the door. The two glanced at one another, both at a loss as to why they were being made to wait. A loud drawling voice said something at the front of the line and the couple there moved out into the garden.

"By the sea and stars, is this the announcement line?" Came a beautifully feminine voice from behind Emera and Jack, "Serves me right for being late, I suppose."

They both turned to see a woman of pure radiance standing after them in line. Emera and Jack passed another glance, silently asking one another if the woman had been there the whole time or if they simply hadn't heard her come up behind them. She was beyond stunning. The woman looked like something out of a Botticelli painting with long golden hair falling to the center of her shoulder blades in loose curls. The gown she wore was the colour of the sea, matching her eyes, and accented in touches of silver. It was in the Mantua style, falling well past her feet with sleeves that hung near her elbows. She could have been the ocean itself. Even as she stood still the fabric seemed to ripple about her, catching the light and dancing somewhere between every shade of blue. Her half-mask was silver, with blue jewels and ribbons spilling from its corners. It glimmered in the low light of the library, catching and tossing the glow of the candles.

Emera had to elbow Jack to stop him from gawking, "I'm afraid ye'll have t' excuse my _husband_. He's been at sea and has no doubt mistaken you for a mermaid."

"That wouldn't be a bad guess." The woman smiled, her voice like honey, "But I'm meant to be a water nymph."

"And what a gorgeous water nymph you are." Jack said, clearly recovered from his slight daze.

"Your husband is so forward." The woman remarked as a smile played around the corners of her mouth, "But with such a beautiful wife, I don't see why he would even bother paying a strange woman compliments. Sir, your flattery would be better served praising her, not I."

"And how absolutely right you are, Mrs...?" Jack pressed his palms together, bowing slightly before wrapping an arm around Emera's waist.

"It's Miss, actually." She corrected kindly, "But I think we're rather past formality. You may call me Caroline. And you two are?"

"Capt -" Jack started.

Emera elbowed him for the third time since leaving the cart, "Robin. His name is Robin and I'm Mary. We're pleased t' meet you Caroline."

"The pleasure is all mine." She replied graciously, "Meeting honest people is so rare these days. Especially at galas like this. I find that most people of our rank prefer being self-important over a sincere conversation. Are you two from the island?"

"Relatively new residences." Jack answered, "We're hoping to start a family in the New World."

Emera had to bight her tongue to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

"Ah, newlyweds!" Caroline clapped her hands together excitedly, "How wonderful for you! And Mary, might I say what an exquisite ring that is."

Emera looked down at her hand again and genuinely smiled, "Thank you."

"It belonged to my Grandmama." Jack explained, "She... err... gave it to me when I was only a Lad."

"What a touching story." Caroline placed a hand on her chest, looking honestly moved by what he had said, "It must be of tremendous sentimental value. And to give it to the woman you love... what a beautiful gesture."

"Aye, he's thoughtful like that." Emera fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as smirked at Jack.

He pinched her waist a little in a silent rebuttal before saying, "Well, any man would want to dote upon so lovely a bride as this."

"It is refreshing to see a young couple so in love." Caroline beamed at them, "I hope we have time again to chat later this evening."

She swept past them gracefully and stepped out the door. Apparently the line had diminished itself while the three had been talking. Caroline spoke softly to another serving man who was dressed identically to the two by the main doors. He nodded a few times as she whispered to him, then bowed and turned to face the garden.

"Announcing Miss Caroline Thálassa-Kóri̱, Lady of Corinth!" The serving man called out in a voice that echoed over the gardens.

Caroline nodded to the man before sweeping out to join the Ball. Emera and Jack exchanged another look, then copied what they had just seen. Together they stepped through the door and out into the night air. The garden lay just beyond a large circular inlay of flagstone upon which the other guests were standing. The Masquerade was an ocean of extravagant costumes. Everywhere the two Pirates looked was nothing but colour, fabric and feathers. It was almost dizzying. Tall candelabras had been set out all along the flagstone, casting light over the guests as they chatted and danced. Somewhere to the right a string orchestra was flooding the garden with gentle music. Emera's stomach gave a nervous jolt when she noticed all the armed guards slowly patrolling the perimeter of the party. She opened her mouth with the intention of telling Jack, but she didn't get the chance.

"Your invitation, Sir." The new serving man sounded just as the previous one had.

Jack produced their invitation for the second time, mumbling something under his breath as he did so. He passed it to the man who gave it a quick once over before handing it back. At least this doppelganger didn't feel the need to be as scrupulous as his predecessor. He handed the parchment back and once again turned to face the garden.

"Announcing Lord and Lady Goodfellow!" He called out, then he said softly so only they could hear, "Milord, Milady, my complements on your most daring choice of costumes."

Jack tipped his hat to the man, bending slightly at the waist as he did so. Emera followed suit, dipping in a quick curtsy. They stepped away from the serving man and out into the throng of the party. Somewhere, albeit in the far distance, thunder rolled across the sky. Glancing up, Emera could see the thick cover of clouds over head, threatening to give way to rain. She hoped it would hold off until they found the Peacock mask. After that, a storm would be the least of their worries. It would take a miracle to get past all those guards once they had their prize.


	7. Part 7

"Of all the things we could have dressed as," Emera whispered as the pair waded through the crowed, "why did it have t' be _Pirates_? You'd think that between the two of us we would have come up with something a little more _discreet_."

"Worry not, Darling." Jack replied in a low, self-assured tone, "In my experience one simply has to act as though he or she owns the particular area in which they are located. No one suspects a thing that way. Just remember, Love: _confidence_ is _key. _Besides, can you not see that this is the perfect disguise? No one here would think Pirates foolhardy enough to dress as themselves while attempting to rob the Duchess blind. Trust me, Love. Those two fools in the donkey costume are going to be under a much sharper gaze than either you or I, savvy?"

She nodded, trying to make herself believe him, "Right. Confidence is Key."

"Precisely." Jack raised his chin, pleased, "Just keep telling yourself that, Darling. Now follow my lead, we need to scope out the area."

If there was one think that Jack Sparrow wasn't, it was subtle. Even when he attempted to blend in he ended up managing to do the exact opposite. His idea of stealth was sauntering into the center of the party, gathering gazes and whispers as he went. Emera, whose arm was linked with his, was dragged along side him. As she counted the number of eyes on them she was thankful for the mask around her face. No doubt she was bright red. Jack had an incredible lack of shame. Embarrassment couldn't touch him. In fact he seemed to be enjoying himself. A grin Emera found stupid was stretched across his face as he strode through the crowd. Something about him just looked... right. Maybe it was the clothes or maybe it was the way he was holding himself. Whatever it was, Emera wasn't able to define it. It was almost as though he was accustom to being in such an environment. He didn't seem comfortable, just... familiar.

They finished walking a few rounds back and forth through the crowd and came to stand next to the string orchestra. The space before them had been reserved for dancing. Groups of couples spun and twirled across the flagstone. Jack was craning his neck, looking around the garden but Emera was captivated by the performance in front of her. Now that she could see what it was meant to look like, she was rather impressed. The dancers seemed incredibly light on their feet, almost as though they weighed nothing at all. They all moved so gracefully that they could have easily been mistaken for tropical fish. They were certainly just as colourful. It was only when Jack spoke that she realized she had been gawking.

"Do you fancy a dance, Love?" He asked softly.

"What?" She tore her eyes from the couples, "Oh, no. I'm no good at it."

"How do you know if you don't give it a proper go?" Jack scoffed.

"Shouldn't we be trying t' find the..." She trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

Jack still had a hold on her arm and was leading her towards the dance floor. As they reached its edge the music ended. The people who had been dancing applauded the musicians and themselves. The small orchestra flipped through their sheet music, giving the guests time to join or leave the dance as they pleased. Jack flashed Emera one more smile, then pulled her out onto the floor. They took their places among the others. The young sailor felt as though she was going to be sick as people glided into position around her. Everything her father and Cookie had taught her vanished from her memory as she stood there. She couldn't remember anything. The music began and her body went stiff with fear.

She stared at Jack, trying to communicate with her eyes that she was stuck. If he noticed, he didn't make it obvious. Instead, he followed those around him and began the dance. He bowed to her, low and with a flourish of his arms. Emera copied him in a courtesy that nearly made her fall over. She straightened. Jack crossed to her, offering her his hand. She took it and again silently tried to beg for help. He just smiled, leading her into the dance along with everyone else on the floor.

"You look like a ship fighting against the wind, Darling." He whispered when he got the chance to lean in, "Turn into it. Not against it. You'll have a much simpler time navigating that way."

"We should be looking for the mask." Emera hissed back, ignoring his riddles.

"That's what I'm doing." He gave her a look that said it should have been obvious.

They broke apart and Emera watched him carefully. As he followed the steps of the dance his eyes were darting around the crowed. She realized that he was taking stock of everything that was around him, making himself a metal map of their surroundings. She was so captivated by him that she forgot to be terrified. She had turned into the wind. And surprisingly, her feet knew just what to do. Without realizing it, she was dancing.

When Jack got close again, Emera asked, "Do ya see anything?"

"Not yet." He shook his head as they walked in a slow circle together.

"I figure it'd be on display in the house somewhere." Emera shrugged, "We should look for a way back in."

"It'll be a trick with all these upstanding young members of the Navy-elite about." He replied as he took her waist.

"We'll need a distraction of sorts." She glanced around as he lifted her, taking advantage of the height.

"That won't be necessary." Jack set her down again.

"What do ya mean?" She spun away from him and then back towards, "Of course we'll need a distraction. If one of us could knock over one of those candelabras and prays that the grass catches fire, we might have a chance. While they scramble to put it out we can slip back inside."

"A good plan, to be sure." He nodded as he took her in his arms, "But I'm telling you, Love, we have a bigger problem than that."

"Eh?" She didn't understand.

Breaking from the dance, Jack spun her by her shoulders so she could see out into the garden. The pair of them stood in the center of the dance floor gaping at the view in front of them. Emera could hardly believe her eyes. The music, the dancers, the annoyed looks they were receiving... all of it faded dully into the background as she took in what Jack had seen. It seemed impossible, but there it was. Standing next to her husband was the Duchess Folconi. And she was wearing the golden peacock mask.

"Oh..." Emera shook her head slowly, in disbelief.

"...Bugger." Jack said the word with her.

They glanced at each other and Emera asked, "Now what? How are we supposed t' get it off her _face_?"

"Believe it or not," Jack looked like he was going to be sick, "I have a plan."

"How is that even possible?" She hissed, "What are ya going t' do? Say some of yer _swooy words_ and _charm_ her out of it."

He nodded, still looking as though he would vomit at any moment, "That... is exactly what I'm going to do, Darling. The Duchess and I go _way_ back."

"Yer kidding." She stared at him, floored.

"Unfortunately not." He took her arm and swept her off the dance floor, "Once I get it off her I'll need your help getting it out of here."

"And what, exactly, am I supposed t' do?" Emera questioned as they slipped around the side of the house and away from the party.

"See that balcony?" Jack pointed up at the wall they were now standing next to.

Emera nodded, "Aye."

"That is Duchess Folconi's bedroom." He explained.

"I don't even want t' know how you know that." Emera glanced at him.

He ignored her and pulled off his satchel, "I'll get the mask out there, you get it in here."

"How?!" Emera grabbed the front of his coat.

"Simple, Darling." He shrugged out of her grip, "Climb up the ivy lattice."

"Climb up the..." She turned to look back at the balcony, it must have been 10 feet off the ground.

"Aye. It's just like hoisting yourself up a shroud." He pressed his satchel into her hands as he spoke, "Now take this, wait for my signal, and don't hurt yourself like you did last time you scaled a building."

"Right." She nodded and slung the satchel over her shoulder, "Give us yer belt."

"Eh?" He looked at her funny.

"Yer belt. I can't bloody climb with these skirts in my way." She held out her hand.

"Fine." Jack quickly unlatched one of his belts, "You better not lose it."

She rolled her eyes, "Just go and say yer swooy words or what have you... but what's the signal?"

Emera turned but he was already gone. She swore under her breath and moved to take a better look at the lattice. Thick ivy vines worked their way between the criss-crossing planks. It seemed sturdy enough, however the young sailor had her suspicions about whether or not it would hold her. Taking hold of a plank, she leaned against it with all her weight. It creaked a little but stayed where it was. Emera bit her lip nervously and looked up the full height of the lattice. Now, she had gone up and down _The Rose's_ rigging more times than she could ever count. She was fearless when it came to being aloft amongst the sails, heights didn't scare her one bit. But on board the ship there was always plenty of rigging to hang on to or wrap around one's arm as a safety line. She supposed that a length of ivy might do the same thing if it didn't snap first. She didn't like the odds of that. Emera knew that it would be nothing like climbing up a shroud.

The young sailor hiked up her skirts into a bundle and secured them with the belt around her hips. It wasn't the best solution, but at least it was better than nothing at all. Emera leaned against the wall, looking up at the sky. The stars were hidden somewhere behind the thick cloud cover that stretched over head. Thunder boomed softly in the distance again, barely audible over the sound of laughter and music. She wondered, as she stood there, if Jack had been able to lure the Duchess from the party. He had seemed rather confidant in his ability to get her alone. She only hoped that his faith was well placed. It felt like ages since he had left and Emera was beginning to suspect that something had happened. She was about to round the side of the house to look for him when she heard voices from above. Emera pressed herself close to the wall and strained to listen. She couldn't hear what was being said but one of the voices was unmistakably Jack's. She couldn't bring herself to stand there like a fool any longer. She pulled off her mask and tossed it over her shoulders, letting it hang from its strings around her neck. The signal be damned. Emera started at the lattice.

The young sailor had never worn a more useless pair of shoes in all her life. The soft souls slipped as she tried to hoist herself up the wall. Emera was only a few feet above the ground when she came to the conclusion that if she went any further she would risk breaking her neck. She slipped out of her shoes, letting them fall to the grass below. Now, in not but her stockings, the Pirate hauled herself towards the balcony. The climb was hard and the ivy vines proved to be useless.

"Stupid Jack Sparrow... 'Oh, come t' the _ball_, Love. It'll be _fun_! Wear a _dress_, Love. Now climb up this _wall_, Love.' Like climbing a shroud, my arse!" Emera grumbled, mimicking Jack as she scaled the wall, "When I get my hands on him, I swear t' the powers, I'll ring his neck."

Where the lattice melted into wall there was a thin ledge about the width of a playing card. Emera reached past the small jut to grasp the base of a window which stood level with the balcony. She gripped the windowsill and her dress snagged on the lattice. She could hear the fabric tearing as she hauled herself up. The young sailor silently begged Madame Bridgett for forgiveness while she hugged the wall. Emera had to balance on her tiptoes as she stood aloft against the building, the thin ledge holding all of her weight. Cursing under her breath, she hoped that whatever Jack was doing, he would be quick about it.


	8. Part 8

From her position, precariously balanced upon a thin ledge, Emera could only just see through the balcony doors and into the room beyond. A figure, undoubtedly Jack, was leaning against what looked like a wardrobe. Emera tried to get his attention a few times but it was no use. He was too involved with the Duchess to notice her. Fortunately, from her new spot she could hear the on-going conversation more clearly.

"Lord Goodfellow," The Duchess' voice was overly flirtatious, "this really is most irregular. What in Heaven's name will your wife think?"

"Seeing as she isn't really my wife, I doubt she'll think anything about it at all." Jack shrugged.

"Not your... explain yourself." The woman said, flattery replaced with suspicion.

He pulled off his mask, "Simple, Love. She isn't my wife because I am not Lord Goodfellow."

"_What _are you _doing_?!" Emera hissed under her breath as she watched the strange scene unfolding.

"Captain Sparrow." The Duchess spoke his name in little more than a whisper, "My Lover, I always knew you would return to me!"

"Lavinia." Jack forced a smile, "It's been years and you haven't aged a day."

If what he said was true, than the Duchess must have been old for a very long time. She was, in a way, still very beautiful but she couldn't be younger than 60 years. Emera could see her clearly now. The woman had crossed into view and thrown herself into Jack's arms. She was buxom, with golden hair which was fading into silver strands. The young sailor couldn't see any more than that. The rest of the Duchess was consumed within the folds of her voluptuous gown and concealed behind the curves of the peacock mask. She clutched Jack, planting kisses across his cheeks and jaw line. He looked frozen to the spot. The Pirate's arms were withdrawn over his head as though he didn't know what to do with them. Emera couldn't blame him really. He was practically being attacked by an overly friendly aunt or grandmother. An experience Emera had only gone through once while visiting Rosa's family in Spain.

The uncomfortable reunion continued for several more minutes before Jack was able to slip from her grasp and say, "Lavinia, Love, I've yet to wish you a happy birthday."

"My darling Pirate, you remembered after all this time!" She made to grab him again.

Jack backed towards the balcony, arbitrarily scooping up a cane as he did so, "Aye, and I've even brought you a gift."

"You have?" She beamed at him.

"I have." He confirmed, leaning his weight on the decorated walking stick, "It's on the balcony."

"You sly devil, how did you ever get it out there?" She asked, stepping through the doors.

Emera flattened herself against the wall of the manor, hoping to vanish into the smooth bricks. Luckily, the thick growth of ivy provided all the cover she needed. Safe from her position behind the greenery, the Pirate could see everything taking place upon the balcony. The Duchess glided to the railing, followed by Jack who shot a glance towards the tangle of vines. He cleared his throat a little and sat himself upon the rail closest to the lattice.

"Look, Darling." He said loudly as he gestured with the cane, "You can see the _lighthouse_ from here. It's such a splendid view. The _lighthouse _looks marvelous, don't you think? A... a_ house_ of... of _light_. What an idea..."

Jack waved a hand towards the shore as he craned his neck, looking at the ground below the balcony. Apparently 'lighthouse' was the signal. Emera buried her face into her palm. Of course he would make reference to the last time she was perilously perched on a ledge only a breath's distance from a sheer drop. Why wouldn't he? Bringing up that rather delightful memory was just like him. She bit her tongue to keep herself from lobbing a curse or two in his general direction. With annoyance nagging her somewhere along the back of her neck, she tried to get his attention without giving herself away completely. She settled on a whistle. Jack turned when he heard the low notes, his dark eyes locked on to the mass of shrubbery. Emera whistled again and he smiled.

"Come, Lover, where's my gift?" The Duchess turned away from the view.

"Ah..." Jack tore his eyes from the greenery, "I must inform you, Darling, it's not much."

"No matter, my Love." She wrapped her arms around his neck again, "Whatever it is, I shall cherish it."

Emera rolled her eyes and stifled a snort, _'Rich people.'_

Jack beamed down at the Duchess, "Close your eyes and take off your mask, Love."

"My mask?" The Duchess clutched her chest, feigning shock, "Whatever for?"

"So," Jack closed whatever distance there was between them, "I might bestow upon you a most illustrious birthday gift."

She giggled like a school-girl and closed her eyes. Then she removed the mask from her face. Jack took it from her with a devilish smile before leaning in ever more closely. What happened next nearly caused Emera to lose her footing. Jack pressed his lips to the Duchess' in what could only be described as a proper snog. With such a distraction, it must have taken a bit of luck for Emera's otherwise horrified eyes to notice what Jack was really doing. As he occupied the Duchess, he simultaneously looped the mask's strings around the end of the cane he had swiped. Then, carefully so as not to give himself away, he held fast to one end of the walking stick while extending the other (and the mask) out towards Emera's hiding place. It was only just barely out of Emera's reach, making her lean for it. But she got it. Her fingers grasped the smooth golden face piece and a smile stretched across her lips. As the young sailor stuffed her prize into Jack's satchel, the Pirate Lad closed the kiss between himself and the Duchess. A smirk played across his lipstick smeared mouth as he pulled away.

"Captain Sparrow..." The Duchess breathed, fanning herself with one hand, "On what plane of this Earth can such a gift be considered 'not much' by any degree?"

Jack smoothed the folds of his frockcoat, "My dear, you flatter me."

"No, Sir. It is you who... wait... oh..." She trailed off, "What have you done with my mask?"

Emera, who was far too concerned with not falling, didn't hear her accomplice's reply. It would be a tricky thing, to say the least, to get back down the lattice. Giving it a try her heel slipped, all but sending her plummeting to the earth below. A lightning bolt of fear ripped through her from stem to stern. Emera had to hold her breath to keep from screaming. She recovered quickly, slamming herself against the stonewall as her heart roared like canon fire in her chest. It was several moments before she could bring herself to move.

_'We are not doing that again.'_ She thought as she glanced down at the drop.

Looking around herself, she spied an open window. Emera shimmied along the thin ledge slowly, one centimeter at a time, until she reached the portal. Then, she unceremoniously threw herself over the windowsill, landing on all fours in the middle of a long corridor. Emera righted herself, brushing the back of her skirts, and took a look around. Inside the manor was dim, the only light coming from a pair of torches at the end of the hall. The long walls were papered in a fine floral print and hung with portraits of varying sizes. Emera was rather impressed, however the simple passage still paled in comparison to the elegance of the foyer. She mused for a moment about one day owning such a home but quickly shrugged off the idea.

Emera had just began to wonder which way the closest exit would be when a set of double doors, not ten paces in front of her, burst open with a sound like thunder. Jack exploded into the hall, his arms flailing around him (the cane he had claimed still firmly in one hand) as he spun in a quick circle. When he saw Emera he frowned, clearly confused. The young sailor could only assume that she was making a similar face. Evidently, it appeared as though the Duchess hadn't taken the disappearance of her mask very well. Incoherent screaming flooded forth from the room Jack had just departed. The Duchess, no doubt. Jack glanced over his shoulder for a split second before bolting down the corridor and away from Emera.

"Sparrow, you bloody cowered! Of all the - gah!" Emera yelled as she set at a run to followed after him, "Wait for me!"

The instant her lead-foot came down on the floor, Emera realized why stockings and polished hardwood don't mix well. Her legs shot out from under her and she landed face down on the boards in a jumble. Pain shot through her forearms from where they had slapped the hard surface. The young sailor gritted her teeth, swearing under her breath, as she hauled herself back up. She would be damned if she'd let the likes of a hallway get the best of her. Starting off again, this time at a light jog rather than a sprint, the Pirate fought to keep her footing. Her feet slipped violently with every step as she moved to the end of the corridor. The floorboards might as well have been a frozen pond and her stockings a pair of ice-skates. She had half a mind to take them off, but the sound of the still screaming Duchess (and what Emera was certain to be military-grade boots) behind her made stopping seem like a bad idea. She didn't much fancy the idea of being thrown in prison, let alone while she was still in her ridiculous costume.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Jack hadn't bore witness to Emera's face plant. If he had, she no doubt would have been subject to his particular brand of ridicule. At least she was spared this. However, because he had carried on without her she had no idea which way it was he had gone. When she reached the window at the end of the corridor she was faced with a simple question. Right or Left? Emera glanced down each, look for any sign that might tell her which way he had gone. It was no use. Jack hadn't left her a single marker nor any trail to follow.

"Leave it t' a sneaksby like Sparrow t' run off on me _again_!" She muttered as she tried to settle on a direction.

When the curtains of the window in front of her flew apart she hardly understood what she was seeing. The movement of the fabric caused the torch-flames, which flanked the portal on either side, to shutter. Shadows danced like phantoms as the figure behind the curtain reached out and took hold of Emera's wrists. It pulled her through the mouth of the heavy fabric, forcing her to be swallowed up. Strong arms wrapped around her tightly despite her struggling. The undescript clamped a hand over Emera's mouth, silencing a scream she hadn't been aware she was in the middle of. Emera drove an elbow into the gut of her captor and twisted around, breaking free from the grip on her mouth. Without a second thought, she plowed her fist into what felt like a face.

"Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!" Jack swore as he clutched his face, "Son-of-a-pock-ridden-Gilflurt! _Emera!_"

"Jack?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" She covered her mouth with her hands, mortified at what she had done, "Ya scared me t' death! I didn't know what t' do! I'm so sorry! What the _Hell_ are ya doing back here anyway?"

"Shh!" He hissed at her, still clutching his face and bent over nearly double with most of his weight resting on the bejewelled cane, "Do you _want_ us to be caught?! Bugger! That's the third time you've punched me! And each time you manage to crack me one, it lands in the _exact same spot_! Are you aware of this? Hell's Bells, you pack a wallop for being such a tiny waif!"

"Shite, I'm sorry Jack." Emera awkwardly patted his shoulder with one hand, not sure how she should comfort him, "Are you alright?"

He straightened and shook his head a little as if to shrug away the pain, "I think I'll live, Darling. Now, please tell me you got the mask."

"Aye, that I did." Emera nodded and patted the satchel happily, "Yer tactic was brilliant, by the way. Although I did almost fall t' my death."

"And I nearly had my face eaten off, so we're squared." He shrugged, "Now let's get out of here before -"

Jack was cut off by the sudden removal of the curtains from around them. A troop of three guards stood before them all armed. The one in front, who had pulled the curtains aside, looked down at the two Pirates with a mixture of anger and confusion on his face. Emera thought that she and Jack must have looked somewhat outlandish, what with his lipstick smeared (and now punch-red) face and Emera's disheveled attire. In fact, Emera supposed that out of context it might look as though she was responsible for the lipstick. They were, after all, in a rather out-of-the-way and intimate location. The thought was enough to make her loose her composure, however she desperately stifled her childish giggle fit.

"Oh." Jack looked across the group and then smiled, "Good evening gentlemen. Where my wife and I disturbing you?"

Apparently Jack had jumped to the same conclusion Emera had. His cheerful tone was her undoing. Emera doubled over in a torrent of laughter, barely able to breathe through her mirth. Jack disguised a chuckled as a cough and placed a hand on Emera's shoulder.

"You'll have to excuse the Missus." Jack explained calmly, "I'm afraid she hasn't got the head required to partake in Duke Folconi's wine. She's had one too many, me thinks."

The first guard's glare deepened, "Pirate, you and your accomplice are under arrest for the theft of the Duchess' mask and no doubt countless other crimes! What say you?"

"Ah." Jack's cheery manner diminished, "In that case... Dearest?"

Luckily Emera managed to sober up. Straightening, despite the ach now present in her sides, she took a breath to ensure she was settled. Then, with a small smile, she propelled her fist forward and straight into the guard's jaw. Pain shot across her knuckles, causing her to swear in a most unladylike way. The man staggered back a little and into one of his comrades. Jack brandished his cane, cracking it across the shins of one of the other guards. The poor fellow crumpled over his legs and Jack struck him again across the back. By this time Emera's opponent had recovered. He grabbed a hold of her by the shoulders and held on despite her struggling.

"Reid! Go fetch Simons and Lark." The first man ordered.

Reid, a terrified looking red-head no older than 17, nodded quickly before darting off down the hall. Emera thrashed against the hold on her. Beside her, the other guard had caught Jack's legs in a swipe and now the pair were grappling over the cane. Jack got loose from the tangle of limbs, leaping to his feet with the guard right behind him. Emera seized her struggling to watch the pair duel. She had never actually seen Jack fight before. And she was amazed to find that he was remarkable at it. He danced around his opponent as easily as he had danced with Emera. Using his cane as a sword, the Pirate spared against the guard and his saber. The man made a move meant to split Jack down the middle. Bringing the cane over his head he was able to block the blow and knock the saber to one side. Jack made a swing at the guard, but his attack was stopped short by the man grabbing hold of the cane's end. There was a distinct clicking sound and, without warning, the shaft of the cane split away from its hilt. The guard stumbled back with the body of the walking stick still in his hands. Both he and Jack were staring at a thin, glinting, blade that sat were a cane should be. Everyone stopped moving.

"Did you know it could do that?" Jack asked no one in particular, amazed, "I didn't know it could do that!"

"Don't just stand there gawking! Use it!" Emera shouted at him.

Jack cracked a grin and the battle was on once more. Now armed with an actual blade, he was far more dangerous. This was a fact that his opponent had picked up on as well. The guard seemed to have an air of caution about him as he moved to attack. Jack, however, couldn't be bothered either way. In fact, he looked as though he was enjoying every moment of it. While the two resumed their duel, Emera took the opportunity that had been presented to her. She knocked the back of her head sharp into the nose and mouth of the man holding her. He yelped in shock while simultaneously releasing her. She spun on her heel and managed to land a lucky kick. The poor man crumpled to the floor in a gasping heap.

"Sorry, Mate." Emera shrugged and turned to where here friend was still sparing, "Jack! I think it's about time t' wrap it up, don't you?"

"Eh?" Jack ducked under a blow, "Oh! Right!"

Dodging behind the guard, the Pirate caught the back of the man's belt with his blade. A smooth flick of his wrist was all it took to split the strap of leather. The guard's belt and affects fell around his ankles, tripping him up until he was face down on the floor. With both of the guards now decorating the floor, the two Pirates wasted no time in making their escape. Hand in hand, the pair flew down the hall to their left. Emera silently thanked the stars that no one was watching them flee. Between her slipping about on the polished wood and Jack's flailing, they made quite the match. She suspected that anyone seeing them would easily mistake them for a pair of wild drunks. But at least they were making some ground. Emera was just getting a hold on her footing when Jack stopped dead in his tracks. She plowed into his shoulder and nearly lost her feet out from under her again.

"Jack! What are ya doing?!" She shoved him, irritated.

"Look!" He pointed up at one of the portraits on the wall in front of them, "I knew she kept it! Never doubted it for a moment!"

The portrait in question was perhaps only a few feet in either direction. It hung in a golden frame, which Emera found somewhat gaudy. Now, Emera was not very educated in the matters of art. She had seen the occasional painting (while stealing them) but she had never really paid them much attention. This painting was something Emera had never seen before. It was unmistakably of the Duchess but, unlike the other portraits on the wall, this was just of her face. Heavy black strokes formed the curve of her face and the line of her neck. The colour came from a wash of red that coated not only the canvas but the figure as well. In many ways, it could have been something a child created. At first glance it would no doubt be seen as sloppy or unsophisticated. But the features of the face were so delicate, so beautiful that it looked like the work of any master. Emera had to force herself to turn away from the piece as a realization dawned on her.

"Wait... she's _that_ Duchess?!" She asked, floored by her new comprehension.

Jack started to reply but saw something over Emera's shoulder and said in a rush, "We'll discuss this later. Come on!"

The young sailor didn't need to look behind her to know that the reinforcements Reid had gone to collect had finally arrived. The sound of heavy foot falls shouts regarding 'King and Country' echoed down the corridor. As Emera followed closely behind Jack, heart racing with every slick step, she couldn't help but smile. Jack had been right. The running, the fighting, the thrill of danger around every bend... she did love it more than life itself.

*** The portrait in this part of the story is based off one of Johnny Depp's real paintings. He's actually a rather remarkable artist (in my opinion.) If you'd like to see the one I used as inspiration and a few of his other works go to www. eotgproductions /paintings***


	9. Part 9

The two Pirates slipped through a set of double doors and into what looked like a music room. Dull light came in through the windows, shining up from the party below. The room was deserted and served as the perfect place for the pair to catch their breath. Somehow they had managed to lose their pursuers, but each knew that so long as they remained in the massive house they risked getting caught. Breathing heavily, the Pirates all but collapsed. Emera stooped and braced her hands on her knees while Jack leaned against one of the walls.

"Now what?" Emera gasped.

"Not sure. Let me think a moment..." Jack replied between labored breaths, "Give me the mask, will you, Love?"

She nodded and reached into the satchel, "Ya know, this thing weighs a ton. I don't know how that woman paraded around with it on her face."

"She's got the strength of a whale, she has." Jack shivered a little as though someone had just stepped over his grave.

"I _also_ don't want t' know how ya know _that_." Emera straightened and passed him the mask, "Here."

Jack gingerly took it from her. He handled it as though it were made of paper. His eyes almost sparkled as he studied the treasure. He turned the object over in his hands a few times as he examined it's glimmering surfaces. When Emera had stuffed it into the satchel she hadn't gotten a very good look at it. Now that it was being held in front of her, she had the chance to take in the details. The drawing had hardly done it justice. The foremost feather stemmed from the top-center of the forehead. The plume was crafted out of smooth emerald and spanned just shy of a foot in length. The feather's eye had been set into the emerald and was made of brilliant sapphire. Small, glittering diamonds covered the surface like due drops. The golden stem was hammered so flat that it seemed as though it might snap even in the gentlest of holds. Around this marvelous focal point countless other feathers fanned out, each just as beautiful as the last. Emera hovered close to his elbow as Jack ran his fingers over the golden face piece. A smile danced across his lips, making him look almost innocent for a moment. She couldn't know for certain, but Emera thought that perhaps Jack was thinking of his lost ship. After all, he was holding the key to its salvation in his hands.

Emera opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by a voice resonating from the other side of the music room, "I must say this is a touching scene. The pair of you gazing down at that precious object as though it's finally yours... It's enough to bring a tear to my eye."

Looking up with a start, the two Pirates found themselves staring at Caroline. She stood at the far end of the room just in front of a window. The light from the party outside enveloped her, casting a halo around her dim silhouette. She watched Emera and Jack with keen, knowing eyes and a small (almost playful) smile.

"Oh, Caroline..." Emera began.

"I'm afraid the Missus and I have gotten rather lost." Jack continued, tucking the mask behind his back.

"You can drop your pathetic charade." Caroline spoke in a voice smooth as honey, "I know that you are not who you claim to be. And I know why you are here. Our reasons are not so different. Now then... hand over the mask and we can all leave here in one piece."

"I don't understand." Emera furrowed her brow.

Caroline rolled her eyes and made a rough noise in the back of her throat, "Of course you don't, you dismal little girl. I doubt you even know what you have... but he does. Oh yes, the great Captain Sparrow. He _always_ knows and he _always_ gets what _he_ wants... no matter who it might hurt. Isn't that right, Jack?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Have I threatened you before?"

"No." She laughed, a sound like church bells, and walked forward a few paces, "But I've heard all about you and your... misadventures: How you ran away from Shipwreck Cove as a boy, your dealings with the East India Trading Company, how you _won_ your beloved ship... and then _lost_ her. I know exactly _why_ you _need_ the Peacock Mask. But I believe the real question here is, _does_ _she_?"

Caroline set her vivid blue eyes onto Emera as she asked the question. The young sailor shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. She glanced up at Jack. He was staring straight ahead at Caroline. His jaw was clenched and there was a curious expression on his face. Emera could almost see the gears of his mind turning as he set to working out a plan. She touched his arm lightly but he didn't stir.

"Jack..." Emera broke the silence that had fallen, "what's she talking about?"

He didn't reply.

"Oh!" Caroline laughed again, delighted, "She doesn't! You haven't told your precious pet a single thing! Tell me Jack, did you weave one of your brilliant lies? Did you tell her some grand story so wonderful that it had to be true? Or did you simply bat those dark eyes of yours and work her own heart against her?"

"What do you want with the mask?" Jack finally spoke, answering her question with a question.

She laughed for a third time, but it came out more shrill than before, "Why, my dear little bird, I want what you want. I thought that much would have been obvious. Now, give me the mask."

"And if we don't?" Jack raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side.

Caroline smiled and raised her hands above her head, "I was _so_ hoping you would ask that question."

As if they were born from the very folds of her dress, monstrous ocean waves crashed out into the room. They swelled forward, swallowing up everything in their path. Emera and Jack were enveloped in their folds before they had the chance to realize what was happening. The heavy water threw them violently, pulling them apart from one another. Emera clawed desperately against the current but it was no use. She was like a grain of sand that had been swept up in the tide. She watched, eyes burning from the salt, as Caroline strode across the room towards Jack. She moved as easily as though the water wasn't even there. When she was close enough she reached up to where Jack was floating upside down. She plucked the mask from his hands with a smile. Then she touched her fingertips to her lips and blew him a kiss. The bubbles that erupted from her mouth bulged until they were impossibly large. The waves parted in their wake, ripping around in a spontaneous whirlpool with Caroline in the center of it all. The two Pirates were tossed this way and that, until finally they landed in a spluttering heap on the music room floor. The water returned to the folds of Caroline's dress, sucked up as though the fabric was a sponge.

Emera pushed herself up onto her forearms and looked around. The room was unchanged and bone dry, as though nothing had happened at all. And yet she and Jack were lying in a puddle, soaked to the skin. She glanced at Jack. He sat up slowly and shook the water from his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. Caroline stood over them with a dark smile upon her lovely face. She was cradling the mask with one arm against her hip. Her own water hadn't even touched her.

"Do you know the story of the Jay who stole fallen Peacock feathers?" Caroline asked, her voice eerily soft.

Neither Emera nor Jack made a move to reply.

"A Jay (although in this case I think a _Sparrow_ would be more fitting) venturing into a yard where Peacocks used to walk, found there a number of feathers which had fallen from the Peacocks when they were moulting." Caroline told them, thumbing the mask as she spoke, "He tied them all to his tail and strutted down towards the Peacocks. When he came near them they soon discovered the cheat, and striding up to him pecked at him and plucked away his stolen plumes. So the _Sparrow_ could do no better than go back to the other _Sparrows_, who had watched his behavior from a distance; but they were equally annoyed with him, and told him: '_It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds._'"

She fell silent, allowing the story to hang in the air.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her and said, "You fancy yourself a Peacock taking back it's feathers then, do you?"

"You may look like a Lord and a Lady, but you are fools if believe you could ever be anything but _Pirates_." She said the word as though it tasted bad, "Captain Sparrow... why don't you tell your pet what you really want with this mask? Why don't you tell her why you desire this particular feather?"

Caroline thumbed the central feather on the mask.

"Jack?" Emera brushed her sopping hair out of her eyes and looked at him.

He turned to her, "It's not just a feather, Em."

"No, it certainly isn't." Caroline said wickedly, "It's a key. Isn't that right Jack? What did you tell this poor, sweet, senseless little girl? Did you tell her it was no more than just a mask?"

"I was going to tell you." Jack jumped in.

"Another lie!" Caroline laughed shrilly, "You really can't help yourself, can you? I suppose she doesn't know what it opens either. I can't blame you for keeping this delicious secret from her. The Garden of the Hesperides. Golden Apples of Immortality. It's plain to see why you would want the key all to yourself. I bet you couldn't wait to taste those apples. What a shame you never will. Awe well. Maybe next time, sweetheart."

She laughed again and turned her back on them. The woman glided back in the direction she had come from, leaving the two Pirates in the middle of the floor. She pulled open a door and a swarm of guards filed into the room. Caroline grinned, hugging the mask to her chest, and leaned back against the doorframe. Apparently she intended to watch the pair get hauled off to prison. Emera, however, couldn't tare her eyes away from Jack. Why hadn't he told her? A familiar pang of betrayal struck her somewhere under her left ribcage. This was the second time Jack had talked her into an escapade without telling her all the details. He had used her again. As much as it hurt, she really couldn't say she was surprised. She had been a fool to expect anything different. Emera took a breath and screwed her resolve to the sticking point. Lying or not, Jack had promised her at least half of the mask. And she would be damned if she was going to go home empty handed, let alone get arrested.

"Evening Gentlemen." Jack addressed the hoard of guards, "Before you arrest us I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that that woman there has just stolen what we rightfully nicked. Really, she's just as guilty as we are. So, why don't you slap a pair of irons on her and we can all go off to the lock up together, eh?"

"Shut up, you!" One of the men replied, "Stand up and show us your hands!"

Jack and Emera sighed and got to their feet, still dripping with seawater. As she righted herself, Emera noticed that the cane sword was still where Jack had dropped it on the floor in front of them. She took half a step forward. The two Pirates obeyed the order and stuck out their hands for the men to see. Emera glowered at Jack as they stood there together. He flashed her a sheepish smile that she supposed was meant to be an apology. She rolled her eyes.

"Jack." She said, her voice sharp.

"Aye?" He glanced at her.

Emera cracked a grin, "Catch."

Tucking her toes beneath the thin blade, Emera kicked the sword high into the air. Jack snatched it with one hand as a wide grin spread across his face. Newly armed, he swung his weapon in a wide arc which forced the group of men to leap back. He chuckled a little to himself as he held them all at blade's length. Now that Emera could get a good look, she saw that the guards numbered only five. Three of their company were Reid and the two men Emera could only assume were called Simons and Lark. The other two were the men that had been left in quite a state earlier. Evidently they had recovered.

"Right then." Jack studied his advisories, "Which of you lot is foolish enough to cross blades with a Pirate?"

Reid nearly elbowed one of his mates in the mouth in his effort to back up. Emera giggled a little to herself. The poor boy must have been terrified. No doubt this was his first posting. The man Jack had tripped up with his own belt lunged forward with a shout, bringing his sword down hard on Jack's. Either Simons or Lark (Emera didn't know which was which) joined his mate, teaming up two against one. With Reid trembling close to the door, that really only left two for Emera to deal with.

"Give it up, Girly." The man that she had fought earlier said, "It's useless trying to fight a pair of men like us. You're not even armed."

Emera smirked, "That didn't stop me from turning ya into a puddle before, now did it?"

She made a run at the two men, her damp stockings slapping against the hardwood floor of the music room. When she was three steps from her opponents, Emera dropped. Her hip smacked the ground but the momentum she had built carried her across the floor and she slid between the two men. Scrambling to her feet, she didn't bother looking over her shoulder, Emera had only one goal in mind. The Pirate Lass threw herself at Caroline and the pair tumbled to the floor in a mound. The Peacock mask slid out of their reach as the two girls struggled against one another. The fight consisted of a flurry of limbs and a tangle of skirts. After a few moments of effort Emera managed to land a blow with her elbow. It was completely accidental, but it struck her clean across the face and stunned her long enough for Emera to stand. The young sailor seized the mask from where it lay and stuffed it into the satchel that still hung across her shoulder.

She had intended to make a brake for it, however Emera's moment of freedom was cut short. The two men she had evaded so well caught hold of her, one on either side. She kicked and thrashed about wildly, but all her effort was to no avail. Aiming a quick look over her shoulder, Emera saw that Jack was only just holding his own against the other guards. She cursed under her breath. Even if she hadn't gotten caught, she didn't think she would have been able to leave him behind. After all, not all treasure is made of silver and gold.

"Jack!" Emera shouted.

"Just a moment, Love!" He replied while ducking a blow.

Emera watched as he twirled and twisted out of harm's way. His foot work was extraordinary. With a simple step one way followed by a turn the other way, he had managed to get his advisories tangled up in one another's limbs. As the two men tried to sort themselves out Jack darted towards Emera. Using his shoulder he plowed into one of her captors, knocking him off balance and away from the young sailor. She cracked the other one in the chin with her elbow, sufficiently freeing herself from his hold. Jack's hand shot out towards her and Emera caught it with her own. Then, together, the two Pirates sprinted through the door from which the guards had come, leaving the jumbled men and Caroline behind them.

The two ran like they had never run before. Jack took the lead, as usual, leading Emera down hallways and through darkened rooms. They nearly flew together as they lost themselves within the manor. Jack refused to stop until at last they found that they were in yet another long corridor. To their eyes it appeared as though the interior of the manor was a never ending labyrinth of adjoining hallways and doors. They stood for a moment, gasping for breath in the dimly lit hall of portraits.

"You know..." Emera said between laboured breaths as she looked around, "this seems very familiar."

"All these passages look the same." Jack shrugged, "For being so wealthy, you'd think that they could afford a decent decorator."

"No, Jack." Emera managed through her laughter, "I think we've been here before."

"Nonsense." He waved her off, "Look, there's our escape! An open window! Let's go!"

Emera grudgingly followed him to the open portal, realizing where they were, "Wait, this is where I -"

Jack wasn't listening. He heaved himself out the window without a second thought and onto the thin ledge below. Emera braced her hand on the sill as she collected her bearings. Just as she had suspected, they had in fact been there before. Jack had just climbed out the window she had climbed in through.

"Jack!" She hissed.

Just then a set of footfalls began echoing down the corridor. Emera cursed under her breath again before hauling herself out the window. It would do them no good to get caught again. She shimmied out of the way, balancing yet again on the impossibly thin ledge. Jack was frozen to the spot on the opposite side of the window. He stared at the balcony next to him, finally realizing where they were.

"Bugger." He swore.

"Ya think?" Emera snorted, "Come on, let's get back inside and find a different way out."

"Right." Jack agreed.

A serving man passed by the open window. The two Pirates froze, pressing themselves against the smooth stones as though attempting to melt into them. The serving man stopped in front of the portal and muttered something about the draft to himself. Then he slammed the window shut and flipped the lock. Satisfied with his work, he set off down the corridor, leaving Emera and Jack trapped.

"Now what?" Emera could feel panic beginning to bubble within her chest.

"Not to worry." Jack reassured her calmly.

He shimmied over to the window and flashed her a smile. Bracing one hand on the glass, he slipped his blade (which he had yet to let go of) between the rail and the upper sash. He rattled the sword about, attempting to flip the locking mechanism. As he worked, Emera looked around for other options. There weren't any. Below a hay cart had come to rest as its driver argued with another serving man. They were debating the driver's ill timed delivery. Ill timed indeed. At any moment either of them could look up and would clearly see the two Pirates hanging against the wall. Emera wished Jack would work faster. Just as the thought crossed her mind there was a horrible cracking sound from the window. Jack froze and every muscle in Emera's body tensed. The window jamb gave another harrowing groan as it splintered out of the frame. With all of Jack's weight acting as an anchor the windowpane broke from its casing. Both the sheet of glass and the Pirate toppled backward from the side of the building.

"_Jack!_" His name tore from Emera's lips in a scream.

She wanted to shut her eyes but she couldn't. Emera watched helplessly as her friend plummeted 10 feet towards the ground. The windowpane struck the earth and shattered in a dazzling display of glass and splinters. Jack hard in the back of the cart. Some merciful higher power must have been watching the Pirates at just that moment. The mound of hay broke Jack's fall, swallowing him up and saving his life. Emera felt her legs go weak with relief, she had to cling to the wall all the tighter. The young sailor watched as Jack (who had gotten the attention of both the serving man and the cart driver) clambered to his feet. He grinned up at Emera for only a moment before he spotted the new danger they were in. The serving man had bolted, no doubt to find the guards, and the driver was shouting all manner of threats at Jack.

"Emera!" Jack called up to her, "Jump!"

"What?! No! What if I miss?!" She called back.

"Just jump!" He spun around to glare up at her.

Emera shut her eyes tight and pushed away from the side of the wall. For an instant she felt the sensation of falling, then she landed hard in the hay. Jack grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. Already, she could tell that jumping had been a mistake. Her arms, face and the exposed bits of her legs crawled with the unbearable sensation of itchiness. She let out a sharp sneeze as she desperately scratched at her arms.

"Alright, Love?" Jack asked, making a slightly repulsed face at her.

"No." She said, sharper than she had intended, "Help me out of here."

Jack gave her his arm and together they clambered to the front of the cart. They climbed up into the driver's seat and Jack flashed a grin that told Emera he was up to no good. The Pirate took up the reins, muttering a quick 'hold on' before flicking his wrists. The strips of leather made a satisfying snapping sound and the cart's horse started off at a trot. Emera, who had been standing, toppled into the seat next to Jack with the sudden movement. The driver, now behind them, screamed something about theft but they could hardly hear him over the grinding of the wheels. Jack snapped the reins again and the horse picked up its pace. Emera found herself clinging onto his arm as he drove the cart away from the manor.

It would have been the perfect escape had they been going in the correct direction. Jack, who had clearly never driven a horse cart before, wasn't the only component that was causing them difficulty. The cart had been facing the wrong direction to begin with. The two Pirates only realized this when they rounded the corner of the manor and came out almost on top of the dance floor. People started screaming and leaping out of the way. It would have been hilarious had Emera not been completely terrified and itchy all over. The horse, it seemed, had a personal vendetta against the string orchestra. He ran headlong into the center of their ensemble, sending the players leaping from their chairs in a parting that was reminiscent of the red sea. As the cart clambered over music stands and instruments Emera threw her hands over her eyes, unable to watch. They must have ridden through several tables before they reached the open field of the estate. When the cart ceased thrashing about, the young sailor finally chanced a look. Behind them was a wake of chaos and destruction.

When she turned round again Emera let out a shrill scream, "Jack! Look out for the drop-off!"

"That's where we're headed, Love!" Jack replied with a laugh in his throat.

He drove the cart hard, aiming directly for the sheer drop that separated the estate from the farmland it over looked. The young sailor clung to Jack's arm as he flicked the reins yet again. The horse picked up its pace, hooves thundering against the earth. They neared the drop-off at a breakneck speed which caused another scream to erupt from within her. She shut her eyes tight and buried her face into Jack's shoulder, still screaming. Then the horse and cart flew off the edge of the drop. There was a moment of weightlessness before the vehicle landed hard against the lower field. It bounced and creaked and moaned upon impact, but by some miracle it held together. Emera peaked out from her hiding place and smiled, giddiness bubbling in her stomach.

"Well, that was subtle." She laughed and glanced up at Jack, "I reckon we escaped completely unseen."

"One of my many talents, Love." Jack returned calmly.

He was smiling, but the expression didn't reach his eyes. The young sailor furrowed her brow as she studied him. Of course. The realization struck her as they sped behind the cover of trees. Jack didn't know she had the mask. There it was, sitting in the satchel across her shoulder and he had no idea. He had been far too occupied to see when Emera had taken it back from Caroline. _Caroline._ The woman who wasn't at all what she had seemed. How had she known Jack's reason for wanting the mask? And, more importantly, how had she conjured water from thin air? The world was rumored to be filled with wild, unexplainable things. Perhaps Caroline belonged in this uncharted category, falling alongside Mermaids, Sea Monsters, Ghosts and Spirits. After all, Emera had heard her fair share of stories about all sorts of supernatural beings or events. But she had never heard of anything like Caroline before. What sort of a creature could call forth the sea with a simple wave of her hand? The young sailor hoped she would never find out.


	10. Part 10

They drove the cart a little farther out into the estate until the two Pirates believed they had put enough distance between themselves and the party. The cart tumbled along, clanking and creaking, no doubt sore from the plummet it had taken off the previous drop. Emera scratched at her arms furiously, still itchy from her tumble in the hay, as Jack slowed the cart to a stop. When at last their ride was at an end, Jack stretched and hopped from his seat. Emera followed suit, watching as he unhitched the horse from its harnesses. The Pirate gave the animal a small pat on the neck and turned to Emera.

"I'm certain I spotted a gate not far in..." He spun in a tight circle, trying to get his bearings, "that direction...ish."

Emera smiled, taking his arm, "Well then, Captain Sparrow. Lead the way."

The two set off in the direction Jack had indicated. The trek was deprived of his usual happy chatter. Emera guessed he was still stewing over the mask. She bit her lower lip as they walked, debating what she should do. As far as he knew, Caroline still had the piece. That meant that Emera would be free to take it and he would never know. To the right buyer it would fetch an impressive sum. She could sell the thing and make a fortune. A fortune that could one day buy her a ship of her own. Emera had to admit, the thought was appealing. But what of Jack? She tried to convince herself that the concealment of his real scheme meant he deserved to lose the mask. But she couldn't. The only thing he was guilty of was secrecy. And after their last adventure, she shouldn't have expected anything more from him. He didn't deserve to be punished for acting in his nature, did he? It would be like reprimanding a bird for flying.

"Jack..." Emera clutched his sleeve, bringing them to a halt under a large tree.

"Mmm?" He hummed in reply.

"Was everything Caroline said true?" She asked, not looking at him and scratching at her neck.

"Aye." His voice was low.

"Why didn't you tell me ya wanted the key for yerself? Why make up that story?" She glanced at him, "I thought... after everything you'd at least trust me enough to be honest with me."

His face was grim and his voice was low, "Trust is a dangerous thing for a Pirate to place in others. Trust is what landed me on that Godforsaken spit of an Island. Trust is what took my ship from me!"

His voice had become sharp.

"Trust is what provided me with this!" He pulled up his right sleeve, showing her the scared letter 'P' there, then he pulled up the corner of his shirt, exposing a long thin scar along his ribs, "Trust is what nearly got me killed in St. Dominic! And I won't even bother showing you what putting trust in my _dear _Grandmama did to me! I don't trust anyone. Not anymore. Not after the world had proven to me time and time again what trust does. Losing my ship was the final lesson I needed."

He put a hand on the pistol in his belt.

"And I plan on getting her back no matter what it takes." Jack's voice had softened a little now, "Emera, Love, I do _like_ you. Know that. But I don't _trust _you... please don't take it personally. It's just the way things are."

She forced herself to smile, lying sweetly, "I suppose I can understand that. I only trust two people outside of my own family."

"That I envy." Jack cracked a grin, "If I had a coin for every time one of my relatives tried to kill me, I would have no need of treasure. I could completely retire from Piracy."

The two continued walking and Emera said, "Ya wouldn't though, would ya? You love it too much."

"That's true." Jack shrugged.

"Speaking of treasure..." Emera bit her bottom lip, "Why do you need a key to the Garden of the Hesper... Hespa... err..."

"Hesperides." Jack corrected with a smile, "I suppose there's no point in hiding it any longer, now that... Anyway, what do you know of the Greek Gods?"

"Not much." Emera shrugged.

Jack delved into his tale with a sly grin, "The Garden of the Hesperides is the Goddess Hera's privet orchard. In it is a grove of trees that bare Golden Apples of Immortality. Legend has it that if a mortal eats one of these Apples, they will be granted eternal life. The Garden is rumored to be on an island somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. The key, the center feather on the mask, is needed to unlock the gate to the Garden."

"Immortality, huh?" She pondered the story for a moment, "Jack, why would you want t' live forever?"

He stopped walking again, bringing Emera to a halt beside him. He looked at her for a long time, studying her with his dark eyes. His lips quivered a few times, as though he wanted to reply but simply couldn't find the right words. The young sailor stared up at her friend, wondering what could be so horrible that he had to plan out what he was going to say to her. She took his hand in hers lightly, trying to prompt him. After a long, silent, moment it seemed as though he had settled on the right words.

"Imagine..." He started, his voice soft, "someone saved your life. But before they did, they forced you into a deal. The bargain isn't fair, but you haven't any choice. So you agree... but try your damndest to sway the favors in your direction before you do..."

He trailed off, his dark eyes searching her face again.

"What sort of deal?" Emera pressed gently.

"The sort... the sort where the price for _saving_ your life... is _also_ your life." He looked away, "I thought I was clever... I dunno if you've noticed, Love, but I've a way of working words to my advantage."

"I have noticed, actually." Emera smiled at him and squeezed his hand a little.

"I thought..." He went on, "I thought I had bought myself enough time. I thought I had tricked my way into being too fast to catch up to. But fate has not been kind. And now I find myself moving too slowly while time moves too quickly. And I thought... well, you can't very well take the life of someone who can't die, now can you? And even if someone could take it... a hundred years would pass in the blink of an eye to someone with all of eternity spread out before them... Don't you think?"

Emera nodded slowly, but she didn't understand. Not one bit. What did he mean about making a deal for his life? Who had he bargained with? And why? As always, mystery hung around Jack like a heavy cloak. It made him seem distant... cut off. Even though they stood elbow to elbow, Emera felt as though they were separated by hundreds of miles. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get close enough to him. There was always that thin, impassible, barrier separating them. It made him unattainable. And his inaccessibility made her want him all the more. At least now she knew the cause for his detachment. Trust. Or rather, an extreme lack thereof. If she could make Jack trust her... perhaps then she would be allowed to pass through that wall.

"Aye... but what are ya running from?" She needed to know.

"A fate worse than death, Love." He replied.

Not knowing how to respond, Emera resorted to the only thing she could. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, her face somewhere in the crook of his neck. He was still damp from the freak-waves earlier. Jack must have been surprised because his arms hung in the air for a moment. But, slowly, he allowed himself to answer. His arms closed around her back, making Emera hug him all the more tightly. Even like this, practically occupying the same space, he wasn't close enough. She wanted to envelop him into her chest. Inhaling the thick, mixed, scent of sweat, sea salt and rum that lingered on his skin was the best she could do. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't even close. Then, for fear she might make a fool of herself, she let go and took a step back. Emera looked away, composing herself quickly. Jack cleared his throat a little, but smiled. With that, the young sailor had made up her mind. She shrugged out of the satchel and offered it to him. After all, to be trusted, one must first trust.

"Here, Jack." She said softly, "I believe this is yours."

He furrowed his brow, but took the bag from her and peered inside, "Emera, Love... how did you... where... when?"

"When I was scrapping with Caroline back in the music room." She shrugged and admitted, "Yer lucky, ya know? I came _this_ close t' keeping that for myself."

He laughed and slung the satchel over his shoulder, "Pirate."

"Yeah well," She shoved him playfully, "it's a good thing you know how t' sell a sob-story, Jackie."

"Hmm... or maybe your just soft." He shrugged and flashed her a sly grin.

Emera rolled her eyes, "Don't make me change my mind."

"I take it back, Love. You're not soft." Jack offered her his arm, "Your the... second most fearsome Pirate standing in this field."

She punched his shoulder, then took his arm, "And don't you dare forget it, Captain Sparrow."

"I suppose we really ought to find that boy... what was his name... Eli... Ellie..." Jack thought aloud as they started off again.

"Elijah." Emera corrected.

"Right. Best we find him before he goes running off to Madame Bridgett in a panic. What she would do, Heaven only knows." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Emera found herself smiling against her will as she and Jack crossed over the threshold of the estate's back gate. Perhaps the night hadn't gone quite according to plan, but it could have been a lot worse. They had made it out alive, a little bruised, and they had gotten what they came for. Looking down at what was left of her costume, the young sailor couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. The garment was, unfortunately, completely destroyed. But it served as a fine reminder of the extraordinary evening she had been lucky enough to survive. No doubt Kay would be disappointed by the state of it, and Madame Bridgett's reaction didn't bare thinking about. But, as she walked down the lane with Jack at her side, Emera wouldn't have traded it for the world.

Not far down the road, the two were reunited with Madame Bridgett's young nephew, Elijah. The poor thing had been worried sick but seemed more at ease once Jack explained what had transpired. In no time the three were safely back in the chaise that had brought them there in the first place. The way back to Madame Bridgett's shop seemed shorter than the journey away from it. Emera suspected that this was thanks to the overwhelming sense of relief she was now engulfed in. And, after her experience in the hay cart, she found that the old horse which pulled the chaise along was no longer a concern to her. At least, she resolved, this one wasn't being directed by Jack. Elijah was a much more capable driver than the Pirate had been.

When they reached Madame Bridgett's shop the trio were greeted with a mixture of pure relief and suppressed anger. As the three were crushed into a tight group-hug, Emera noticed Madame Bridgett examining the reminisce of her dress. The woman clicked her tongue a few times in disapproval but said nothing. Emera and Jack quickly changed back into their regular attire before bidding Madame Bridgett and Elijah farewell. When they reached the front door, Jack was pulled to one side for a moment. The young sailor stood waiting as the woman spoke in a hushed tone to her friend. Curiosity pinged somewhere in the back of her mind, but Emera ignored it. She was far too tired to get swept up into another of Jack's schemes. Or at least not so soon. The conversation was over in a breath's time. Jack tipped his hat to his friends and offered Emera his arm. She took it with a smile.

"Ya know, Elijah..." Emera called as they started down the road, "if you ever get bored of life on the mainland, just give me a shout. I think you'd make one Hell of a Pirate."

The young man smiled but didn't reply, instead he merely rose a hand in goodbye. Emera and Jack strolled at a leisurely pace back towards the docks, allowing Madame Bridgett's shop to fade behind them. They walked in a comfortable silence. While she couldn't speak for Jack, Emera felt as though the pair of them had a strange new understanding of one another. Of course she believed she could also be imagining it, but there was a feel in the air around them that seemed more... at ease, than it had in the past. As they neared the docks Emera stole a few glances at Jack. His face was composed and his posture relaxed. To anyone else he would have looked perfectly calm. However, Emera could see the gleam in his eye and knew at once that he was looking forward to what lay ahead of him. They were standing on the cusp of a new adventure when they came to a stop on the long boardwalk of the docks. One of them would be headed off into the unknown. And the other would be venturing home for the first time in what felt like ages.

"You'll be off then, Love?" Jack smiled at her.

"Aye." She nodded, "And you too, I suppose. Lost islands, hidden gardens, Golden Apples... you've got quite the 'venture lined up."

"That I do." He agreed, then he looked at her seriously and said, "You know, Darling, you could come with me... if you wanted to."

Emera's heart nearly stopped in her chest. He wanted her to go with him. Excitement rippled over her as she opened her mouth to accept, but she stopped herself. She longed to be at his side as he crossed the globe in the name of freedom, adventure and gold. But she knew couldn't. She had duties, responsibilities and a family to think about. Had none of those things been in play, she would have said 'yes' in a heartbeat. But the weight of her life acted as an anchor, keeping her grounded while he was free to sail where he wished. Perhaps one day, that would no longer be the case. Perhaps one day, she would be able to soar at his side. But that day was nowhere in sight as the two of them stood on the docks together.

"I do want to." She said slowly, "But I can't. Not this time."

"Shame, that." He kept his dark eyes on her, "It is in my professional opinion that you would have made a most excellent traveling companion."

Emera could only smile, "Stay safe, Captain Sparrow."

The young sailor leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek in a light kiss. This time, it was all she could leave him with. As she pulled away, Emera caught a glimpse of her sea coin, still knotted into his hair. She smiled again and took a few steps back.

"Not to worry, Love." Jack winked at her, "I know exactly what I'm doing."

Emera nodded, trying to believe him, and hopped into the longboat she had borrowed from _The Rose_ earlier that evening. She waved to him a little as she settled within the small vessel, silently wishing him luck on whatever lay ahead. Then she kicked herself off from the docks and started out to sea. As she rowed away from him, she couldn't help but recognize a familiar ach. As always for her, their partings were bitter-sweet. In a way, there was as sense of satisfaction to it. Now Jack was the one standing on the docks watching as she vanished out onto the open sea. They had come full-circle. But that didn't stop the hollow feeling from returning to Emera's chest. As she neared her father's ship, she knew that the sensation was from missing Jack. She hadn't expected it to set in quite so soon. The hold that man had on her was something extraordinary. And she was finally beginning to understand exactly what it was. Though she would never admit it, not even to herself, Emera knew now that she was in love with the man called Captain Jack Sparrow. And that meant that a world of trouble lay around every bend.

The End

***I'd like to thank all you readers. I really appreciate all your comments, favorites and what-have-yous. They each mean the world to me. I really hope you've enjoyed Jack and Emera's adventures thus far. Be sure to keep a weather eye out for the next installment (and hopefully a few more after that.) Who knows what's in store? Oh, and make sure you stick around a little longer, because even though it says "The End" I'll bet you your weight in gold it's not over yet. ; ) ***


	11. Epilogue

When they entered the large house that sat just up from the beach, Emera and her father were greeted by cheerful squeals. Rosa and Mia rushed to meet them at the door, crushing them into a tight group-hug. There, lost somewhere between Mia's shoulder and Rosa's chest, Emera realized just how much she had missed her stepmother and stepsister. The embrace shifted into excited conversation. The two women asked question after question about where the two Pirates had been and what they had seen. Emera tried her best to answer as quickly as Mia asked. Flint, however, resorted to silencing his wife's interrogation by snogging her.

"Slow down, Mia!" Emera laughed, "I have questions too. Is Michael here?"

Mia shook her head, sending her dark curls bouncing every which way, "No not yet. But he sent word. He should be here within the next few days!"

"Wonderful!" Emera beamed and took her sister's hands, "I've missed both of you so much!"

After a while, the family moved their conversation from the foyer to the sitting room. The discussion carried on for hours. It had been ages since they had seen one another and a great deal can transpire in that time. They caught up over afternoon tea, talking until Flint dozed off on the sofa. Emera took the opening as an opportunity to deliver her belongings to her bedroom. The young sailor excused herself and hurried up the stairs. The way to her room was all too familiar despite the fact that she didn't spend much time there. Shoving the door open, she stepped inside the small space.

The room was perhaps five paces across in either direction. On the wall opposite the door sat a large set of windows, below them sat a number of trunks and drawers. Emera's bed sat to the left. It was dressed in modest coverings and a folded stack of clean clothes had been placed at its foot. Emera smiled to herself as she crossed to examine the pile. It consisted of a clean pair of breeches, a linen blouse and a fresh set of undergarments. The young sailor tossed her sea-sack onto the bed before turning around. She had intended to inspect the rest of her room but was caught off guard by something across from her. Her vanity sat along the wall there, next to her bookshelf and a small table. Emera crossed slowly to the mirror in order to clarify what she was seeing. Sure enough, someone had scrawled across the surface of glass. The message looked to have been written in a stick of Emera's own kohl and it read:

_You took something of mine, and so I've taken something of yours. If you want him back... then come and get him._

_- Caroline._

Emera felt as though someone had forced her to swallow a chunk of ice. She couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. A wave of land-sickness overtook her, threatening to make her topple over if she didn't steady herself. The young sailor gripped the back of her vanity chair and stared at the elegant writing across her mirror.

"Jack..." She breathed.

_***Oi! Emera here.**_**_ I'd like t' wish each and every one of ya a very happy International Talk Like A Pirate Day! Be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do, and remember: Take what ya can, give nothing back!*_**


End file.
